Chosen-Collective

Posted on 28 Jan 2013 @ 10:08pm by
Edited on on 29 Jan 2013 @ 1:20am

4,546 words; about a 23 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Mess Hall
Timeline: MD2 1900 Hours

ON:

The mess hall was, as it oft was at this time of the night, nearly empty. And as usual, Liyar decided to take his meal at this time. It wasn't his quarters, and he was avoiding the lounge after two particularly unpleasant incidents already. The nearly empty soon turned into completely empty as the last line of people filed out. Liyar made his way to the buffet counter and looked over the choices. The Tarinol was out of his system, which he could only feel gratitude over. The last time he'd entered the mess hall with the Tarinol in his system had been a nightmare.

Sekhet might have thought it would do him good, but it was wreaking havoc on his ability to reign in his telepathy. even with the psi cuffs. He had taken those off long ago and put them away in the inner pocket of his tunic. He had changed out of the godawful (it's still godawful. He doesn't think that purple is going to get any better any time shortly) uniform and into a fitted black and gold embroidered tunic, Vulcan in minimalist style, but preferable to the bulky native robes he was generally expected to wear. Out of uniform, in his natural bearing, he seemed more himself. The same way he'd come off this morning in training with Maenad. Far less the awkward, fuzzy, disjointed person Lilou had the misfortune of meeting a few hours prior. He'd held off the Tarinol at bay even as he'd taken it this morning, until his shift started. When his shift started, he turned into something else. Something caged. Chained. The word repeated itself now. Ad infinitum. But now it was out of his system for good, at least until the next day, and the psi-cuffs weren't hindering him. Meditation wasn't much of a go, but even the simple pleasure of being back in his mind, back in control of his body, seeing the numbers, understanding his experiences - it was enough to exude the same calmness as if he had meditated.

He still wasn't too keen on eating, but he was a Vulcan, and he kept his word, so he loaded his plate with a variety of fruit moved to walk over to the nearest table, only to come face to face with Maenad instead.

"Lieutenant," he greeted her formally, the only acknowledgment of the fact that he called her friend so intently that morning a small tilt of his head, eyes widening just a speck and eyebrows arched in that odd expressionless-smile. He met her eyes mildly, blinked once and then gestured out, moving slightly to avoid a collision and reaching over for a plastic cup, which he filled with orange juice out of a dispenser. This wouldn't last, he knew, but the kitchen had a full stock of fruits and vegetables and the buffet counter was a privilege that probably wouldn't be there long. Real orange juice, Liyar found, was much preferable to the replicated version. Real fruits, just as much, even if his appetite wasn't exactly up to par.

"Mister Liyar," said Maenad back to him. She had thought it was him, but couldn't tell until he'd turned around. She didn't recognise him in his Vulcan clothing from behind; she was still in her uniform, the sleeves rolled up her elbows. It had been a long day; briefings with her department and sitting on the bridge most of the afternoon had left her feeling tired. She didn't want to go to bed just yet because it was so early, so she had made the infrequent decision to eat a late dinner in the mess hall by herself. That wasn't going to happen anymore, though, meeting Liyar here.

In her hand she held a plate of undressed wild rice over a single breast of curry chicken. In the other was a tall glass of ice water. "This is the last place I would expect to find you," she thought aloud.

Liyar offered her another blink for her trouble. Then again, as infrequently as she must have visited the mess hall, it was probable she didn't know that it wasn't a rarity at all for him. "It is not an uncommon occurrence," he said, balancing the juice on his tray and holding the end of it in one hand. It was preferable to eating in his quarters, or his office, or a lab, or the lounge. Of course, most just assumed that he was following the status quo, eating in the mess hall like everyone else. The truth was far less cavalier. He didn't dwell on it. "If you would prefer to take end-meal alone," he said, gathering that much at least from what he could sense, "I shall relocate."

"No," she said, looking around at all the empty tables. "You were here first. If you like I can take this back to my quarters, if you want to be alone. I don't mind." Maenad was being sincere, she really didn't mind. She had only come to the mess hall to stop herself from going to bed so early.

Liyar moved to sit down. "I generally do not prefer to be alone." It had came out of his mouth before he could stop it, but it at least, possibly, explained why he frequented the mess hall at all. Empty or not, it had a less sense of aloneness about it than any other part of the ship. He could feel the echoes of others there, could feel the gathering of energy from the day's crew compliment. "If you wish to join me, you may," he extended the offer with the same mixture of awkward confidence that he usually did, even though internally, there was an uncertainty there. He didn't know if it was a welcome invitation, but he didn't care enough not to offer it.

"I prefer it by the window," she said before he could sit. She led the way to the nearest table by one of the windows and sat herself. "I normally eat in my quarters," she said as an afterthought. She didn't need to say that it was also normally alone. "I was not ready for bed, so I came here instead," she told him. Why, she didn't know. She wasn't particularly good at small talk, so it seemed as good a topic as any.

Liyar followed her and sat across from her. He blinked for a few seconds and then held up a hand, as if to hold their conversation for a brief moment and opened the jacket part of his tunic, which separated seamlessly, indicating that it wasn't a shirt at all. Underneath was just black, as he reached his hand into the inner pocket and rooted through, the psi-cuffs were still there, and happened upon the small flat isolinear data chip he'd stored there. "I was going to give it to you tomorrow. However, as you are here, it is logical to do so now. You stated that you wished there were more of a selection from which to choose. I have added several new recordings to the algorithm component. They will all work. The PADD that you were given with the transceiver will accept this data chip and it will load the new selections into the algorithm base. I did not know what you prefer, but as you were significantly fond of the Betazoid compilations, I have added a library of them." He handed the chip over, sliding it over the table abruptly before turning to his fruit and picking up one of the pla-savas with the chopsticks on his plate.

Maenad took the chip in her hand and looked at it. She had forgotten that she had mentioned that; had Liyar spent the day making a way for her own music to be heard on the psi-thing he'd given her? "You remembered," she smiled. "I will try it tonight." She set it off to the side as she moved some rice onto her fork and ate it. While chewing, she noticed he was using chopsticks. "Why are you eating with chopsticks?" she asked him, confusion obvious.

Liyar looked down at the chopsticks unconsciously and nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is what they are called here. Yem-fek, in my province." He lifted one up to reveal the winding Vulcan script overlaid against the polished black edges. "It did not take me an entire day to create the compilation, but I did recall your desire to hear more of them," he answered her questions, spoken and non.

She gave him a thankful smile as she ate some more rice. She'd gotten used to him answering things she didn't say. She didn't realise that Vulcans also used chopsticks; she didn't know to use them, as she had explained to Cho. But neither did she understand the logic behind them - forks just seemed the better piece of technology. "I'm surprised to hear you say that you prefer company. I have the impression that Vulcans prefer solitude."

Liyar wasn't quite sure how to explain. "You recall that I explained to you previously of A'Tha? The Greater Consciousness," he elaborated, picking out another alien looking fruit. "In this, Vulcans are never alone. With the bonds that we forge with our clan, our parents. Our mates. Children." He said the last bit into his orange juice and blinked up again, moment passed. "Being away from Vulcan has weakened my connection to the k'war'ma'khon, or as we call it in my province, A'Tha. Being without..." He inhaled and continued onward, "Without the bonds to my mate and child, has left me in a state of aloneness that most Vulcans do not contend to experience. Solitude is otherwise, yes, preferable." Liyar took a drink, burying his minute frown in his glass and perfectly expressionless as he set the cup down. "As for myself, I am psi-native. Being disconnected from the immediate k'war'ma'khon has been an isolating experience."

Maenad sunk. He was alone because of his wife and child's death. He had told of her that once, and she'd felt horrible for leading the conversation that way. She didn't mean to do it; if she'd known, she never would have asked it. And now, because of her own lack of consideration, or perhaps a lapse in her otherwise impeccable memory, she'd brought the conversation to a dark and sorrowful place. "I am sorry, Liyar," she admitted looking up at him with her sincere green eyes. "I didn't mean to bring that up. If ever you feel lonely or want to remember them, well," she felt awkward and out of place to extend such an offer, "You can talk to me any time. Or just be in my company, if the mess hall is too crowded." She remembered the probable loss of her friendship with Lirha, but didn't want to pain herself with that now. And despite the friendship she had with Kiri, she considered her to be more of a little sister - though she hadn't yet realised that properly.

"And you in return, should you desire the reverse." Liyar offered her the same. Even though he honestly wasn't sure if she would appreciate the offer, he could do no less. He did not necessarily read her mind that time, but he recalled their conversation that morning, before training, and knew that Maenad was still upset over the loss of friendship. "There is no apology necessary," he turned to what she'd originally said before. "And your company is gratifying," he admitted, well, that wasn't really a shocker. Hadn't he called her friend just this morning? He supposed it was in fact a reasonable admission. He looked away in the distance for a moment, burying his thinky thoughts in his eyes. He could see the numbers surrounding them. He inhaled calmly. It was only a couple hours past since the incident with Lilou Peers, and even though he felt as though he had regained control over that, at least enough to sit down and eat, it felt hard-won. He knew he would have to meditate on it. And quite a few other things as well. But for now, he shoved it down. Buried it away, as Ensign Peers referred to it, and looked back. He was not there. Not now. Just eating a meal. With a friend.

Not knowing how to respond, Maenad resumed eating, As she did so, she stared outside at the passing stars. She wondered, not irregularly, how many treasures, how many discoveries, how many peoples and species she unknowingly passed each time she was at warp. The thought was idle, not as focused as it sometimes was; Maenad was still distracted by the unpleasantness of the past twenty-four hours. She had yet to hear from Lirha since the night before, and it was playing a toll on her. But, this was Liyar's time. She hated dwelling on herself, especially in such public a forum - even if they were the only two in the mess for the moment. "What kind of fruit are you eating?" she asked, looking at her nearly-empty plate. The break in the long-held silence made seem to her as though she'd yelled. Having finished her chicken, she was playing with the few forks of rice remaining on her plate.

"They are called pla-savas," Liyar answered unenthusiastically. He never really ate at his food, just picked here and there, pushed it around his plate, made smiley faces out of it. Well, nix the last one. Unlike most Vulcans, he rarely had much of an appetite. Which wasn't always the case. But very recently, it had become such. Liyar speared another one and ate it, and then turned to look at Maenad, meet her eyes. It had been something curious to him. "They are," he referenced the fruit, "Quite common all across Vulcan. I am surprised you do not know of them." It would be like living on Earth and not knowing what an apple was. "And I have noticed, as well, with other things." His tone wasn't accusatory. Though, he was a Vulcan, his tone wasn't much of anything. But were she able to read the minute signs, his would read curious. "You are fluent in Modern Golic. A language I am told is quite difficult for outworlders to learn. You wrote a paper regarding Vulcans. One I am told offends many of them." He didn't seem too concerned about that. In fact, if anything, it amused him. "But what I am curious of, is why you do not know the more basic elements of Vulcan culture?" A'Tha and the Greater Consciousness was something pretty significant for her to have missed, to need explained. And there were many other incidents that piled up as well. "Did you not live on Vulcan? Or were you not given access to the cultural environment therein?" He pursed his lips slightly. He didn't know much of Shi'kahr, or the Western provinces. Were they as secular as Miran was? Or had she only focused on one specific thing? Her paper? Ancient Vulcan history? He recalled that she mentioned an understanding of it in passing.

Maenad watched him as her expression quickly changed from thinking he was answering a simple question to one of defensivesness. She clenched her jaw and dropped her fork, clanging it against the glass plate. How quickly people changed. She didn't like being taken for an idiot. "First of all, Mister Liyar, I did not write a paper on Vulcans. I am writing one. Secondly, in total I have probably spent a year on Vulcan; for six months I lived there." She raised her eyebrows, looking at her plate as she went on. "I am quite familiar with the West, thank you. Most Vulcans are not like you, you should know, and most of them were not very welcoming of me. In all the time that I spent on Vulcan I produced not a single friendship, nor do I miss any of the Vulcans that didn't mind me as much. As such, the only flavours of Vulcan culture that I got were on my own. I mostly ate my own food, anyway, as I find Vulcan cuisine very bland, so forgive me for not recognising your pla-savas." Her voice was very contemptuous, but she hadn't noticed. Maenad crossed her arms and looked outside, following star streaks with her eyes.

Liyar tilted his head and blinked, nonplussed. "The only reason why I had inquired was a curiosity regarding the Shi'kahri. I was given to understand that they are more liberal than in my province." And thus, the leap of logic was no real jump, he had assumed they would have welcomed her. But of course, how could they? Their culture prided itself on machine-like logic, to the point of near parody. Liyar blinked and shook his head. "My people can be very callous, Lieutenant Panne. I apologize that you were not honored in the proper way for a guest to our world." He was, of course, oblivious to the fact that he'd made her feel foolish, but not for long. He let it sit, at least. So that his own motivations were clearer to her. He then looked to the side, first eyeing her and then the stars outside, voice mild. "And I look forward to reading your paper, if you do complete it. I was not judging you."

Looking away from the stars that she'd realised he had joined her in watching, she gave him the slightest of a smile. She looked at his bowl of fruit, which he had barely touched. "You've eaten hardly anything," she observed playfully, with a pretend disapproving shake of her head. "If, is definitely the word," she mumbled, now holding her head in her hands, the base of her thumbs on her eyes and fingers clasped in front of her forehead. She hadn't the time for academic work lately, and it would be a while before she would again, she knew. "Some day, perhaps," she reclined and stared back at him contemplatively. After a long few minutes of watching him, she asked, "Do you ever wonder about life around all the stars we so carelessly pass by?"

As though caught out, Liyar quickly grabbed another two of the odd fruit halves and ate them. "The first time that I left the Eridani system was approximately two and a half months ago," he said, flicking his gaze back toward the window. "I do wonder, yes. The Universe is vast, and there are many perceptions to discover and learn." He nodded pensively. "Every being, every action, has a reaction. That reaction sends waves through the void. We may think of our travels as insignificant at times," he pointed out the window as they warped past. "Simply flickers of light along the way. But we are witnessing the product of billions of choices, collisions, reactions."

"Exactly, yes," her vowels were drawn out longer than normal and she was nodding slowly, her hands between her thighs. Her gaze had shifted back to the windows, but she wasn't looking through them - she was deep in thought. When she had asked Liyar what he thought, it wasn't until he started replying that she remembered she'd spoken the question aloud. It was more thinking with her tongue than interest, but it was comforting to know that Liyar, a Vulcan, thought about such things too. Maybe she was looking for justification.

"Hurry up," she said a minute or two later, tilting her head. "I want to go."

Liyar paused mid-bite, eyebrows knitted unconsciously. He chewed and then swallowed. Rather than forcing himself to finish the leftovers on his plate (of which there were many) he merely nodded and stood. "Have a good night, Lieutenant Panne," he offered a little woodenly, noting the tiredness in her features, as though quoting the phrase. Well, you couldn't win them all. It was at least a minimal effort into congeniality.

Maenad looked at him with a frown, then smiled in disbelief that he would tell her to leave before he finished. She hadn't intended to sound short with him. "No, I'll wait," she said. "Let me try a piece of this so-common fruit."

Liyar paused again for the second time in the last minute or so before awkwardly returning to sit down, repeating to himself the mantra in his head that he'd done quite a few times by now. Cultural differences... before sliding the plate in his hand over toward her. He poked a chopstick toward a black and purple star-shaped fruit at the edge of the plate. There were only a few of them left. The remainder of them were the orange and red pla-savas, which did not disappear as keenly. "The hirat, you would likely prefer," he offered by way of simple explanation. He pointed the chopstick back at the red-orange ones. "Pla-savas," he indicated with a nod at his plate.

She took the hirat and ate it, watching the plate as she tried to figure out whether or not she liked it. Deciding that she did, it was sort like a purple grapes, maybe a little more sour. She took another one and then reached for a pla-sava. She didn't like the look or feel of it, but ate it anyway. It had barely any taste and was like a mix between yoghurt and jello. She couldn't help but squirm a little. She finished her water and caught an ice cube in her mouth. "I like the hirats better," she smiled.

Liyar pursed his lips slightly and blinked, a minute shift in facial expression but as they were more or less in the privacy of an empty mess hall he didn't concern himself with it, only said, "I am more partial to them as well. Much of the food that Vulcan exports to outworlders or which was in your case I assume, offered in the first place, is considerably more bland due to the fact that our regional cuisine can be somewhat more intensive than I am told is regular," Liyar explained, picking out one of the star-shaped hirat yet again. "These are not as fresh as what you would find in an area such as Miran," he gestured the chopsticks in his hand.

Miran, that was where he was from, she recalled. Maenad casually helped herself to another hirat and popped it into her mouth. "You talk of home often, Liyar," she said after swallowing.

He averted his eyes slightly and gave a little half-shrug. "It is familiar," he said, neither acknowledging nor dismissing the concept. Vulcans did not lie, after all. "I have noted a similar tendency from you as well. France, it was called?" he asked a little uncertainly. On the list of familiar items, France clearly was not high on the list.

"I do not," she said, taking yet another hirat. But then she asked herself whether or not she did. "Not as much as you talk of Miran. I know all about Miran; where you've come from, why you're here, what life was like there, how different it is from the Western provinces," she smiled at him, "The weather, the terrain," she smiled at him. "I think you miss it," she said, but then she remembered his tragic family history. Maybe it was his way of thinking of his dead wife and child. "And I would too, if I were you," she added softly, before she might seem insensitive.

"The weather?" Liyar asked a little haughtily. "I have not," he spoke with a touch of mild indignation. Had he? He perused his eidetic memory for a while and unconsciously frowned lopsidedly. Maybe the giant crab had brought it out. "There were no giant crustaceans in Miran," he muttered to his plate. Or beaches. Or large bodies of water at all. All that water was very unnatural. Replicators or not.

Maenad burst into laughter at that, she held a hand in front of her mouth bending over the table. And it was real laughter too, not the usually controlled kind that she normally did, the kind that made hardly a squeak. She closed her lips and laughed from in her throat. Still smiling, she took one of the last two hirats. "You're almost done," she said. "Finish your pla-savas."

Liyar stared at her a little curiously, an inscrutable look on his face as she blurted out the random hiccuping noises he'd come to recognize as signs of amusement in Terrans. The one thing that always confounded him aboard the Galileo was how very noisy its occupants were when it came to their feelings, coming from a species that felt emotional expression should remain private. Normally Liyar found such outright displays jarring and alien, the baring of teeth and the bizarre stuttered coughing and shouting, as it looked to him. He wasn't looking at her as an alien anymore. At least, not in the disturbing sense. It was the same look he had when they were in the laboratory. As though he had just discovered something, but could not quite determine what it was, or why it stuck out. The moment passed and he blinked at the untouched gelatinous pieces of fruit still lingering in front of him, quickly snatching two of them and the last piece of hirat as if it would chase away the ick.

Maenad collected her dishes and stood up to wait for Liyar. "What are you doing this this evening?" she asked him as they headed toward the reclamator.

Liyar followed her and dumped his plate into the recycler along with Maenad's, watching it disappear in a flurry of white-blue lights. "I will likely meditate and then proofread a proposal I have been devising," he answered her, although the correct and more accurate answer might have been nothing, really, because none of these were essential or even preferred things to do, but as always his answers were literal. He, at least, comprehended enough to return the question. "And yourself?"

"Nothing, really," she said, looking at the floor as they walked toward the exit. "I might read," she thought, "I may play some music, but I'm tired. What are you proofreading?"

Liyar led the way out of the mess hall doors, his voice trailing off as they disappeared down the hallways. "There are currently a group of misplaced refugees in my province," recognizing he was one again discussing his home province, but she had asked. "The proposal is an extension of a negotiation regarding a draft revision to integrate them into our community..."

OFF:

Lieutenant (JG) Maenad Panne
Chief Science Officer, SSC
USS Galileo

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

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