You'll have to ask...

Posted on Sat 11th Aug, 2012 @ 1:41pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Senior Chief Petty Officer Fihnrilk'Hob"ledn-ardol (Fin)

4,920 words; about a 25 minute read

Mission: http://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/missions/id/2
Location: Counselor's office
Timeline: 2nd day

After getting her medical out of the way, Fin decided to stop by the counselor's office to see if he could fit her in. With the haphazard way the staffing was happening on the star base, there was a chance he could see her without an appointment. She was dressed in the uniform Patterson told her to wear--black body with gray shoulders and a white neck piece.. The lack of color made her hair and eyes more vibrant than usual and she was in a good mood.

Following the directions of the computer, she found the office and palmed the chime. Hearing nothing, she knocked on the door.

On his way back from lunch, Paul turned down the corner of the curving hallway that led to his office and saw the tallish, coppery-haired woman knocking at his door. He recognized her from the senior staff meeting held the previous day, but her name escaped him. Finnicky-something, though of course that couldn't be it.

"Good afternoon," Paul said. He attempted a light surface read, only enough to ascertain emotional state, and encountered...nothing. It was rare that he met people whose emotions he couldn't sense. Paul blinked in startlement, caught somewhere between uncertainty and interest. "What may I do for you, Chief?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd be able to fit me in for a psych eval while everything is still so chaotic on the base---if it's no trouble?"

"It's no trouble at all," Paul assured her, "though this will be just a new personnel interview and not a full evaluation. That really would require an appointment and would take a couple of hours so you could do the testing." He shot her a wry smile. "Most of the crew are too busy moving in to schedule appointments with me yet, so you're quite welcome to come in. "

He pressed the security lock, and his office door slid open to reveal a room whose walls, carpet, and upholstery were done in earth tones--browns and beiges, with splashes of brilliant color from two landscape paintings of stone bridges whose sides were overgrown with flowers. A loveseat, sofa, and coffee table were arranged near the door, while a desk and two chairs stood at the rear of the office. Two diplomas hung near the desk. A box of tissues, a PADD, and a puzzle cube sat on top of the coffee table. Aside from that, the room was elegantly spartan, if such a phrase were possible. "Would you care for tea or coffee or anything?"

She smiled at the human tendency to offer refreshments. Although there was something else mixed into his gene pool, she made herself comfortable on the love seat and crossed her legs. "I'll have a coffee, hot, double cream, thank you." Sparkling, cognac eyes looked around the comfortably appointed office. "So what do you think about the state of Protector? I'm surprised at how run down she is."

"So am I," Paul said. He gave instructions to the replicator, which soon produced a steaming mug of coffee and a tumbler of chilled water. Paul set the coffee in front of Fin and kept the water for himself, setting it on the table and exchanging it for the PADD as he sat down on the sofa. "It's evident that this place has not been under military care for quite some time. If I could speak to whoever was running it, I'd want to give them a tongue-lashing." He sipped from his water and then poised his hand over the PADD. "What's your full name?"

"I am Fihnrilk'Hob"ledn-ardol, but Fin will suffice."

Paul winced. "That's as bad as spelling Welsh," he muttered under his breath. But he asked her to spell it and tapped Fin's name in swiftly before finishing his train of thought.

"I'm curious about the reasons for the indifference, but I suppose I will either find out eventually or never know." Paul said as he entered the stardate into the PADD. "Is it causing difficulties for your department?"

She thanked him for the coffee and sipped from it. "No, Intel can work from anywhere. We don't need a 'department' to base our operations out of. But the base doesn't look professional because of the neglect. I wonder if our aquatic guests will figure out that we aren't up to speed on running the place?"

"If their tech level is anything approaching ours, and I presume it must be, I don't see how they could fail to notice the state this base is in," Paul said. He abruptly stopped entering information into the PADD.

"I can think of several possibilities, two of them highly uncomplimentary to Starfleet," Paul said with a grimace. "First, that Starfleet itself seeks to undermine the negotiations by directly insulting the diplomats by holding the meeting in so shabby a place. Second, that it seeks to undermine someone's career by undermining the talks, or third, that this truly is the most convenient and desired location for these talks, requested by the delegates themselves." He paused.

She threw out his first couple of ideas because it only made sense that a water species would choose a location best suited to their needs if they were in charge. There were bodies of water on the star base.

"It could also be possible that Command wants to see someone shine by providing a difficult situation and seeing how well the person being assessed handles it. But that is something I would never do when causing insult to other parties is possible. Lastly, the dilapidated look might make the delegates feel more comfortable and at home in their environment--but I have never met diplomats of that persuasion. They usually expect the very best, and they usually get it."

He shot a concerned look at Fin. "In any case, I am not happy with the situation or with the sparse information we have about these people. I wouldn't host guests in a run-down place unless I had absolutely no other choice. Starfleet does have other choices."

"I agree. I think we will have to wait and see how the meetings develop before we can lean one way or the other in what decided this particular option."

She studied Paul in silence for a moment. "What is your parentage? I can see Terran in you but there is something else..."

"My father is Terran, and my mother is Betazoid. I grew up on Betazed," Paul said. "What about you? There is an unusual quality to your appearance, almost a...jewel-like quality," he said, "a brilliance. I've never encountered it before."

It was probably the most asked question she received. "I am Cam h'lan. The universal translator expresses my species as 'skin walker.' I am able to move my essence from one organic shell to another. It is what allows us to live many hundreds of years."

She sipped at the coffee again. "The thought of what we can do frightens some. They worry that I will try to steal their shell or just take a quick pass through them. But I am very content with the body I possess now and what others don't realize is there are dangers for us every time we leave our own shell."

"Are you inhabiting a Cam h'lan shell now or a shell of a different species?" Paul asked, using her term where he would normally have said 'body.' "I'm familiar with Trills, so the idea of a being inhabiting many different bodies over a lifetime doesn't disturb me, though I know your form of it is nothing like theirs." He gave her a sudden smile. "And it's nice to know the actual name your people call themselves, instead of some Terran-based name for them. How the Rihannsu put up with being called Romulans I don't know."

She thought his questions and observations were very informed. "This is a Cam h'lan body. It is my third." Fin turned her head and brushed the hair back from her cheek exposing the scars. "This is how you can tell. There is a scar for each Cam h'lan body I have possessed. We do not mark ourselves for any other type of shell as they carry no honor for our people. As far as the correct name for my species, our language is not that easy for most." She spoke a phrase in her native tongue, pronouncing certain syllables on the exhalation of breath and others on the inhalation to demonstrate. "It isn't just a matter of knowing the correct word, how you say it can decide the meaning. So I am not offended by the term 'skin walker'."

"Good to know," Paul said, "How do your people determine what shell you will possess? Is it done by mutual agreement between just the parties involved, or is it like organ donation, in which a third party would assign a shell to you?"

She appreciated his interest in her species and didn't mind sharing the information. "It would depend whether you are talking about a Cam h'lan body or just another organic shell." She readjusted her position on the love seat. "Our life expectancy is unknown. As long as there is always a supply of adequate life forms around, we can live hundreds or thousands of years. However, it isn't always easy to live that long. It takes an emotional toll, and many simply tire of the struggle or the lack of new things to learn, or perhaps of seeing their loved ones die. Death is extremely personal to each of us." She grew quiet for a moment while examining her own thoughts on the subject.

Realizing a moment later that he was waiting for her to continue, Fin started up again. "I am 203 years old. There are still many things I want to experience, so my will to live is strong. I have inhabited life forms that were barely acceptable to me in order to stay alive. Eventually, I'm sure I will get to a point where I'm not willing to do that. When that time comes, I will leave my shell and not enter another one. Death will happen in less than two minutes."

Paul made a brief note on his PADD and then returned his attention to Fin.

"So when you transfer to a new shell, it must be very close by," Paul concluded. "What prompts you to enter a new shell? And you said it's an honor to possess a Cam h'lan shell but not any other sort. Would you tell me why that is so and what it means to you?" He paused. "If that wouldn't be too intrusive."

"Long lives are a status symbol on my planet, but every organic form wears out. Our essence does not because it is energy. That means we must move from shell to shell or body to body in order to continue. Any organic form we inhabit that is not Cam h'lan is just a shell to us, a temporary place to wait for something better. That is why we do not mark ourselves for them. As for the reasons we move from one to another, they are many. In my line of work with Intel, I am an infiltration specialist. I don't need surgery to change my looks in order to move among an enemy. I simply slide into one of their shells and take it over. If I am stronger than the original owner, I will control the shell. If I am not, well...then it can get very interesting."

She couldn't tell him anything but generalities about her work.

"What happens to the mind of the original owner, once you leave their body?" Paul asked. "Should I ever want to offer you the temporary use of mine, for instance--Could my personality be restored once you returned to your own body, or would that depend on how long you inhabited my body?"

Other questions occurred to Paul, ones related to neuropsychology. If, for example, Fin entered the body of someone with a brain dysfunction or radically different brain anatomy from Cam h'lan norm, would that affect her? But that would be going off on a bit of a tangent--if he hadn't already gone off on one.

Fin leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees, closing some of the space between herself and Graves. "Your questions are very insightful, Lt. I find them quite refreshing." She gave him a dazzling smile. "Now, for your answer. I never damage the mind of the rightful owner if I don't have to. There is room for both of us inside one shell, but only one of us can be in control. If I cannot convince the occupant to step aside willingly and maintain itself quietly during my stay, then I have to use force---and that is very difficult to explain since there is no physicality involved."

Looking down at her hands, Paul could see her long lashes against the perfect skin of her cheeks. "If I am only in the shell temporarily, I try to leave it in the same condition it was in when I entered it. Physically and psychologically my presence can be eliminated. The experience of the original owner depends on how they reacted to my stay inside their body." She paused..."Like I said, I don't cause them damage if I can help it."

"That was mainly what I wanted to understand, and thank you for explaining it so clearly to me," Paul said. He tapped the PADD once and then slid his fingertip from right to left across it. "So you're 203 years old. How are you adjusting to working with a supervising officer who is considerably younger than you?"

Fin chuckled, 'Ahhh yes, Patterson." Taking a moment to sip at the coffee and arrange her thoughts, she slid back into the couch, the topic of conversation having moved to more general questions. "I actually think it's a little humorous. No one his age should be in charge because they simply don't have the experience. I'm not saying he isn't good with the Intel work he does, but he lacks time in service." Now she looked at Paul, her brows drawn down in question. "And how did someone only 25 get the rank of Lt. Cmdr?"

"I guess it bothers me because I'm supposed to trust him to make decisions for the welfare of this base, and I don't think he has what it takes." Now she inclined her head. "But that is just my opinion."

Paul nodded. "Which begs the question in my mind of why you aren't the CO in Intel. Senior Chief is a very high and very respected enlisted rank. Have you chosen not to go to OTC? I'd think you'd be a shoe-in for officer, if you wanted it."

He couldn't read any emotions from Fin, and she was too well-schooled to let her expression betray anything to him. But she had the calm confidence of one who knows her job so well she needn't think about it and the relaxed self-discipline that told him she didn't have to think about that, either. Not incompetent, not a troublemaker, he concluded. "You don't want it," he said.

She gave him another smile. "Very good, Counselor. You're right, I don't want the job." She'd been sitting long enough now and felt the urge to move. Rising from the couch, she set her cup on the low table and walked across the room before turning to Graves. "I've been with Star Fleet for a long time and am always ready to take off at a moments notice. Taking a position of CIO would mean staying put. That doesn't go along with the kind of work I've done in the past. I don't have a problem with someone else being in charge, I just prefer they have enough actual experience that the rest of us stand a chance of staying alive."

Fin tucked her hair behind her ear as she studied Paul. "You aren't attracted to females, are you?"

Paul blinked at her in surprise and then smiled. "Yes, I am, actually--and to men. If I seem reserved to you, it's force of habit. I have to shield myself from the emotions of most people who come to see me for counseling, and I find that difficult. Not having to do so with you is both a relief and somewhat disconcerting." His gray eyes sparkled at her. "And a rather enjoyable challenge."

Fin bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "What do you find challenging?" She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms casually.

"I'm used to being able to read the emotions of people as easily as breathing," Paul said. "I admittedly take it for granted. Then you come along. Not only am I completely unable to read your emotions, but even your nonverbal cues are extremely muted. Which is not to say that you don't show emotions; it's more that I have to use other means than empathy or visual observation to figure out what you might be feeling, what's true as opposed to what you want me to believe is true. I have to logic things out rather than know them instinctively when I speak with you. It's, well...fun, if you'll pardon my saying so."

It was the first time he'd heard her laugh while the twinkle in her cognac eyes was intense. "I'm happy my company brings you pleasure." She walked back in his direction, but only eased herself down on the arm of the loveseat this time. "It is a form of self preservation for my people. It simply would not do to have any empath able to know the person in front of them was not who they said they were. If I were in another shell, it is most always important that it not be detectable." Her lids closed a bit as she thought about something that concerned the counselor.

"There is a way I can identify my essence to anyone, no matter the shell I possess. Are you interested in experiencing it?"

Paul's eyes widened slightly and he thought for a moment before nodding. "It would be a sensible safety precaution," he said. "Yes, I'd be glad to. What do you need me to do?"

"You don't actually have to do anything." Fin once again took the seat opposite him, but sat forward on its edge. "I will focus my essence---my life force---some call it a soul, on the outside of my body. We call it our 'glisten.' When I reach out to you, just take my hands." Her smile was relaxed. "The contact won't hurt or effect you in any way, other than you'll be aware of a taste and a smell. "What you experience will be imprinted on you for the rest of your life, but the only time you'll ever use it is if you experience my 'glisten' at some point in the future."

Fin ran a hand back through her pinkish golden hair. "Still interested?"

"Yes," Paul said, the decision made quickly but with certainty. If Fin trusted him enough on such brief acquaintance to be privy to what she would share, he was willing to accept the experience and the deep awareness of her that he suspected it would bring. He too leaned forward and watched what Fin did, with his eyes and his mind.

About to share something very intimate with Graves, she gave him a sultry look before closing her eyes. It was time to focus. No distractions. Fin concentrated on slowing her breathing. In...out...in...out. As her breath calmed, so did the rhythm of her heartbeat. Everything around her became muted, the light, sound and smells. Fin began to gather her energies into the center of her body. She did this by envisioning the equivalent of fireworks in reverse. Little pieces of glowing energy, some as tiny as the head of a pin, others as big as her little finger nail, traveling from the farthest reaches of her periphery, to a place a few inches above her navel.

When the exercise was complete, Fin gave the energy ball a mental push and it expanded, over and over again until it pushed outside of her skin and suspended itself around her. Graves could see her clearly, but she was surrounded by a sparkling, mist that glistened with subtle energy.

Once again she fastened her cognac-colored eyes on Paul's face and reached out her hands to him.

To Paul, his sense of Fin was like the intricate music of a string quartet or the sonorous notes of an organ gradually growing louder in the room, even though he heard no sound with his ears--and Fin hadn't even touched him yet. The harmonies wove themselves in time to the sparkle of light that now enveloped Fin's body. A feeling of awe and wonder welled up from the depths of his soul at the beauty of it. Paul reached out for Fin's hands in return, his touch at first delicate, as if he meant to caress a butterfly's wings. Then it became surer, with a firm strength that sought not to crush, but to lend support. He projected welcome, acceptance of whatever Fin might wish him to know of her.

What he felt from her was the ozone of thunderstorms and the clean, invigorating fragrance of lemon and honeysuckle. He felt bathed in summer sunlight, of long years' wisdom laced with inherent power.

Clasping his hands, bridging a connection from her essence to his, Fin smiled. "This," her eyes encompassed his total experience, "is Fin...this is me." She folded his hands between her own. "You will always know me now, no matter what form I might take. Even if I can't communicate, if we touch, I can share my 'glisten' and you will know it is me."

Graves had no real idea of what she'd given him during the exchange. And Fin didn't know how strong the connection would be yet. But from now on, Paul would have some sense of her. It was never the same with two people. Some knew when she was around, others could sense when she was in trouble and others just had vague thoughts of her at odd moments. What Paul would take from the sharing was unknown as of yet.

"And now, I end it." The sparkling bits that surrounded her and engulfed Paul's hands that were sandwiched between hers, began to sink back inside her skin. He would understand more now why he thought of metals and jewels when he looked at her.

"I don't have words," Paul said in a low voice a moment later. "I could only use poetry to describe it, and even that might not be enough." He fastened his gray-eyed gaze on Fin. "I am humbled."

She let go of his hands and reached for her warm coffee. "No need to feel humbled, Lt. You have simply experienced a natural ability of my people. There is no magic or other entity involved. I wasn't trying to impress you, it was more about sharing something very personal."

Paul wondered if there was a place of worship on the station. He believed in faith rather than in any religion. While Fin was no deity, the experience just now put him in mind of some of his deepest religious experiences, the ones that had caused him to feel extreme oneness with the universe in a way that was equally impossible to describe.

Seeing how affected he was, Fin smiled. "There are many kinds of life out here in space, Counselor. Just like you find our ability to travel from one shell to another fascinating. I find your acceptance of death after a short life to be very perplexing. It is just a difference in our natures. You mustn't give something more importance than it deserves."

Paul smiled at her. "We accept death after a short life because it is foolish to rail against the inevitable. And some see it not as the dying of the light but as the path to a greater light." He shrugged. "Which notion is true, no one knows, but the end comes for all of us, just the same."

Fin shook her head. "I just can't think of death in such calm terms. Its true that eventually the end will come, but I'll only go kicking and screaming." She had to laugh even though her words were a true statement.

"I probably should have told you about a side effect of sharing the 'glisten' before you experienced it."

"You and I will be connected to some degree now. I don't know how much or how little, but when you touch someone else's essence or soul, you share a part of them forever." She emptied her coffee cup. "I would be interested to know how it manifests for you."

"I'll let you know," Paul promised. "You'll have some awareness of me, as well? And I say, hell, yes, greet death kicking and screaming--but never afraid."

Feeling they were at a convenient place to end the intake eval, Fin set her empty cup down and took a deep breath. "I did not touch your essence, so my awareness of you has not changed. Is there something else we should discuss, or do you have enough information to clear me for duty?"

"I need to know a little more about you than is available in your very sketchy personnel file," Paul said. "I realize I can't ask about any of your missions, save to inquire if you ever had to undergo psychological or psychiatric treatment following any of them, and if so, what were you treated for? It would also help to know a bit about your life in very general terms. I have to have something to go on, if I should ever need to treat you. Are there any things I should not do or subjects I should not discuss with you--just as matters of cultural taboos?"

She took a moment to think about what he was asking. "I don't think there is anything you need to worry about, Counselor. Because I have lived a good deal of my life away from my home world, I am quite accepting of any cultural faux pas that might happen. As far as me having undergone any treatment? There is no official record, but there have been two instances in my history where I needed someone to listen and offer guidance after an assignment. I questioned whether I made the right decision on a mission..."

"That can only speak well of you," Paul said. "I think that tells me much of what I need to know. Have you spent most of your adult life doing Intelligence work?"

This was something she could actually tell him. "No, only the last 15 years. Before that I was on my own to get into whatever trouble I could find." Fin smiled again. "The first time I traveled away from my home world I was 15 in Terran years. I go back every now and then just to recenter myself in my culture, but I don't stay long. I like the excitement of other worlds and peoples."

Paul smiled at her. "It never gets boring, does it? I haven't does as much traveling as you, but I do like meeting new people, and I'm happiest when I can immerse myself in a culture for a while."

He glanced at his PADD and swiped his fingertips across it and tapped the screen a few times. "I think, for a new crew eval, I have everything I need now. You're more than fit for duty, Chief, as far as I can determine."

Fin stood, and the twinkle in her cognac eyes was dazzling. "Thank you, Lt. I've enjoyed our talk. In fact, I wouldn't mind spending more time with you. Maybe we could have dinner sometime?"

"I would like that," Paul said. And he knew he meant it. There were no ethical alarms going off in his mind, no feeling of being on-edge, that things were moving much faster than he liked. He could simply enjoy this woman's company. The gray of his eyes sparkled with warmth. "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

Ohhhh, how nice! Fin though. "I'd love to meet you tomorrow night. Uniforms or casual?" This would be her first 'personal' time spent with anyone since arriving on the station.

"Eh, we wear the uniform all day," Paul said. "I'm for casual if you are. You've been here a bit longer than I have. What's a good place to eat at?"

"Casual it is, then. As far as where to eat? There is a club on the promenade I've been wanting to try out. It's called Orchids and Jazz. Their menu probably is limited, but they've got entertainment, booze and food. How about 1900 hrs?"

"That sounds excellent to me," Paul said. He rose from his seat. I'll come by your quarters tomorrow night, then. Thanks for the chance to meet you, Chief; It's been quite a delightful experience."

She headed for the door. "I think after sharing my 'glisten' you know me well enough to just call me Fin. I'll see you tomorrow night." She left him with a wink and a smile, looking forward to the time they would share the next day.

OFF
SCPO Fin
Infiltration Specialist

Lt.(jg) Paul Graves
Chief Counselor
SB Protector

 

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