A Perfect Join Part III

Kether

“Captain Yassal?”  The Terran commander offered a polished grin and his hand.  “Commander Jack Forester. Friends call me Jack.” 

She took his hand, making her handshake firm. “Lahn.  Captain Evlyn Lahn. Good to meet you, Commander Forester.” They froze a second as Lahn didn’t reciprocate the offer to be addressed informally. The commander let the expectation dissolve with an easy chuckle.

“The Admiral was just sitting down for lunch, Captain. Care to join us for a bite?”

“Thank you, I already ate.” But he was already guiding her out of the foyer into a small dining room, seating her in a free chair between two other brass in uniform.  The array of food -- enough to feed twice again the number that sat at the table – was heaped on a crowd of delicate blue-veined Deferi porcelain platters. The matching place settings were framed by polished silverware that reflected the ornate glitter of a small chandelier. The officers introduced themselves between mouthfuls of food with names like Buck, Scooter, and Ace.  Only the man at the head of the table, lean and sandy-haired, paused to carefully assess Lahn.  His infectious quiet silenced the table, broken only as they all stood when he did, facing Lahn.

Life on the Bath

The hardest part of departing on the Bath was leaving Panoptes.

Only days later, when there were moments to reflect was she realized she might not see the Biome ever again. She had been busy adding pepper to her blue leaf salad when the realization ambushed her and she pushed the plate back, no longer hungry.

A Perfect Join, Part II

Netzach and Hod

Captain Evlyn Lahn broods in the low light of her ready room, a shadowy form somberly uplit  by the wan light of the PADD on her desk. Her stony expression conceals her troubled thoughts as  her mind slowly ruminates over the inexplicable events of the last few days..

Lahn’s eyes flicked upward. “Commander Grupiro, what are you doing?”

The Ferengi held two cordials and a carafe in her hands. “Narrating, Captain.”

She regarded her first officer a moment. “I am not brooding.”

“You have been sitting there for quite some time, Captain.” She set the glasses on the desk.

“The light is not dim.”

“To a Reman, perhaps.” Grupiro poured a clear, slightly vicious fluid from the carafe into each cordial glass.

Lahn dismissively waves her hand. “My mind is not troubled.” 

“Whose mind is not occasionally contemplative in these troubled times?”

Lahn sighed. “Actually, I feel rather upbeat, thank you.”

Captain Evlyn Lahn briefly sat in her adequately lit ready room, blissfully unaware she was brooding…

Lahn sighed focusing intently on her PADD. “I’m not in the mood for snail juice, Commander.”

A Perfect Join, Part I

Yesod

You wake up realizing that those closest to you were consumed in your making – you are born an orphan.  For slightly over 90 hours, two distinct and simultaneous nebula of experience collide --  dual masses strain to coalesce into a sense of self, an ego that can pronounce “I” as more a statement than a question. Part of you finds the snug familiarity of your body  violated --  your nearly vestigial pouch ripped open and stuffed with a half meter worm. The other part of you feels trapped in an alien husk, fighting the desperate urge to claw its way out, clinging to training and a sheer faith that this process – a process that no two Trill describe quite the same -- will eventually end .  

There has to be a better way to achieve immortality. Klingons try to fight their way to it. Romulans conquer. Ferengi haggle. Terrans try to fuck their way to it -- but Terrans are not alone there.

Despite the anticipated horrors and warnings, the awakening to my fourth life has been the gentlest so far.  I lie supine in a dark, cavern on a raised dais feeling rock’s warmth oozes through the layers of padding.  The light is dim. The warm, moist air smells of sweet, delicate incense. Somewhere the burble of a fountain couples with soft music.  I slightly twist my wrists, and determine the thick leather manacles on the dais remain confined to their niches carved out of the stone. My four attendants wear white robes, hiding their alert focus behind kindly smiles and slow, deliberate movement. Two stand quietly back, hypos tucked in their sleeves.  The tricorders, sensors, even emergency medical supplies, are all discretely hidden away as an attempt to reflect the old ways as much as possible, while reducing the frequency of madness, infection and death.  

Across the Desert

Juliette watched the heat ripple over the desert to make the sand appear the boil. Lorot sat nearby, meditating.

“I should like to cross the desert.” She said.

“You would most likely not succeed. It is dangerous.  Even for Vulcans, there is a considerable level of risk.”

Juliette considered this, hunching further into her linen shawl to avoid the scalding sun.  “Then why do Vulcans try to cross?”

“To achieve what awaits at the end, Naturally.”

Juliette’s curiosity piqued. “What awaits at the end of the desert?”

“Wisdom.”

 She considered this for a long moment before she asked, “Which end?”

Lorot arched a brow at her.

Sensor Ghosts

The USS Valkyrja encountered an ion storm that played havoc with the sensor arrays. At one point, sensors indicated the passing of a giant turtle, with four gigantic elephants standing on its back facing outward. On the backs of the elephants was a massive disk-shaped planet. Captain and crew could not help but observe the phenomena until sensors returned to normal.

A Perfect Join: Prelude

Many of those who hadn’t been on the away team who beamed over to Gul Maket’s crippled freighter found it hard to conceive this prim, fastidious Cardassian had tortured hundreds. They hadn’t seen the rooms, the tools, the logs.  They hadn’t seen what remained of his ‘patients’. Those that had were tight-lipped, pale and asked “only hundreds?”.

 “I must say, Evlyn – May I call you Evlyn? So nice to meet a colleague. You have the most lovely green eyes. What do the Terrans call it? Jade? Yes. I would mount them on black velvet. Could I somehow let you still see through them? That would be the challenge, hmm..”

“Bold talk for a prisoner, Gul Maket. Captain Yassal will do.”

He seemed to consider this a second. “Am I?”

“Lets see. I could consult the manifest of the brig of *my* ship, or I could ask any one of those security staff behind me…” She looked theatrically back to her security. Stoic. Hands on phasers. They’d been on the away team, so the Gul’s delicate, mild manner was only pissing them off. “They would be inclined to agree.”