After The Dinner

Posted on Thu 4th Oct, 2012 @ 7:07pm by Commander Brian Windsong & Commander Paul Graves PsyD

2,573 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: http://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/missions/id/2
Location: Holodeck
Timeline: Current

The stars in the Akadian sky had suddenly been obscured by a passing bank of clouds and a soft wind began to blow bringing with it the splatter of large raindrops. Brian was unable to see the clouds but the rain falling on his face was a dead give-away.

"So Paul, do we wait out the storm or do we go check my old room? No hanky panky, but you did promise a back rub. Assuming that you found dinner satisfactory."

"I like the rain," Paul said. "I haven't been out in rain for quite a while." He gave a brief laugh. "And no, that's not an evasion." He tilted his head upward and let more of the drops fall on his face. "Sometimes, you live inside the hulls of starships and space stations for so long that you forget to enjoy the simple delights of nature. Even if this is only holo-nature." He inhaled. "Smell that? Grass and wet earth. You can imagine sinking your toes into it. It's a good smell. I don't know if that's a mark of your talent or the programmer's, but I like it."

Brian breathed in and gave an appreciative nod. "Thanks, I was trying to achieve that result. Being blind does have some advantages. It's made me more aware of my other senses.

"Some day, probably a long time from now I just want to settle down someplace where I'm looking up at the stars, not traveling through them and just standing in the rain, just like now, instead of traveling through a vacuum.

"But if we stay here much longer we're going to get soaked."

Brian chuckled and pulled him back under a protective awning. In the past that was when he would have made his move. To reach out and steal a kiss, and the thought did cross his mind, but he didn't do so. He had no idea what would happen between him and Paul;friendship, romance, something deeper, but whatever it was he knew he didn't want another fling, another one-night stand.

Relationships, of whatever variety only happened overnight in cheesy novels.

"Well, I believe now would be a good time to check out my room and see if it is as accurate as the rest of the images. Besides, I think you owe me a back rub."

"I think I do, too," Paul said lightly. "And since you insist on dealing with diplomats all day, I'm sure you could use one." He walked where Brian led, marveling at the detail that had gone into the holo-programming. "This truly is amazing," he told Brian as they went up to the lieutenant commander's room. "I've been in lots of holodecks, but aside from live-action role-playing, I've never seen one so detailed."

"Thanks", Brian said as they passed through a lobby and past a registration desk to an old-fashioned door which looked as if it was made of oak. He reached for the handle and, after missing by a few inches the first time, grasped the handle, twisted and pushed. They found themselves facing a wrought-iron spiral staircase.

"It is kind of hard to tell how good a job they did. Would you mind going in front of me and leading the way? I just need to put my hand on your elbow."

"Sure," Paul said. He stood still as Brian took hold of his upper arm and slid his hand down to Paul's elbow. Paul began climbing up the stairs. "So, would this be called the clueless leading the blind? Because I have no idea where we're going."

Brian chuckled, "Something like that. When you get to the top of the stairs we should be in a short hallway. There's a hall closet straight ahead, just to the left of that is my parents room. At your 3 o'clock is a bathroom and at your 5 is my room."

"Got it. We'll head right and make a U-turn." Paul led the way up the stairs. "So why do you need sighted guide in your own house? Has it been that long since you've been here?"

"Just up the stairs. They are still a little tricky. And I'm not sure how accurate the holodeck has them. I fell on it once, the real one that is. Seven stiches on top of my head. So I'm just being cautious."

"Ow. Falling on these would hurt," Paul said, glancing down at the stairs for a moment before continuing up then. "Where's the tricky part?"

"Well my father made the stairs and, there is a differnece in the distance between the second and third steps from the top than the rest of the staircase."

"Thanks for the warning," Paul said. "I wouldn't want to encounter that unawares. Did he do that on purpose, or was he just trying to complete the stairs and had too much of a gap?"

"Well let's just say that while my father has many talents, metal work was not one of them. But he is also a proud man, so he wasn't about to ask for help."

Paul laughed. "Sort of like mine asking for directions. It will never happen."

They at last arrived at the tricky couple of steps. "Here we are," Paul told him. "Don't break your neck, or Nyx will be very cross with me."

"It isn't Nyx I'm trying to impress, but I wouldn't want her to be the one on your ass," Brian quipped as he took a careful step, "Guess that is a little harder when you're five."

"To climb these steps? Yes, I would think so," Paul said, chuckling. He took the last step and waited on the landing for Brian to follow suit. "Did you fall going up them or down?"

"Going down," Brian replied, "I heard the doorbell ring and knew it was my friend who had come over to play, so I ran down the stairs and the next thing you know BAM! There I was down on first floor skipping the rest of the stairs. I was really lucky, it could have killed me.

"What about you, you have any horror stories?"

Paul chuckled. "There was the time I burned dinner--because I completely forgot that I'd put anything in the oven. I noticed some good smells coming from the kitchen, but I didn't pay much attention to them because I was playing a computer game. Then I started to smell something burning. I went into the kitchen and discovered that the egg rolls I was baking had turned to charcoal. Then the fire-fighters showed up. One of the neighbors had called because she saw smoke coming out of the kitchen window."

Brian chuckled, "When did this happen? If it was when you were a kid, I bet there was hell to pay."

"I was 16, I think," Paul said. "I had to clean out the oven, dispose of the charred remains of egg rolls and then had to go to the store and buy fresh ones--which my mother made me pay close attention to. It wasn't too bad, just embarrassing."

Brian nodded his head,"Sounds like our mothers were twins. That's exactly what mine would have done. My bedroom should be right there. Not much in there but a bed, a desk a couple of chairs and some posters. This was mostly my summer home.

What was your home like?"

"It's set among hedges and trees. Betazoids like open spaces. Even our cities are spacious. Has to do with the psionic abilities everyone has. Empaths don't like to live too close to each other unless they're very emotionally close. Conversely, there are other times when we want to cling to each other." Paul paused. "Sorry; I'm digressing. Anyway, my parents' house is low and spread-out, with wide windows, some of them stained glass in flower designs. The floors are artificial wood planks covered with large carpets--nice, but comfortable. The place looks like a family lives in it, even though my mother would rather have it looking like something out of House Beautiful." Paul smiled. "But she never manages that.".

"Our home, our regular home, sounds pretty sterile in comparison. It was the top floor in what we called a skyrise. Had some nice views but at the same time it was very...utilitarian. I much preferred this place. It was where I first, well let's just say there were some, new experiences that I had here. If you know what I mean."

"I'm pretty sure I do," Paul said with a wry smile.

"Which brings up something you just said," Brian went on, "So what makes you want to cling to another person?"

"Me personally, or my people?" Paul asked.

"You personally."

"Well...Sometimes it's hard to distinguish the two," Paul said. "If an emotion is felt deeply enough and is shared by enough people, it can spread like wildfire among a crowd of empaths. I've been in crowds like that a few times. usually, they come about when something traumatic happens, like an aircar wreck or the death of someone in you family. I've also seen it happen at music concerts. Those are times when we purposely let down our shields and join with each other.

"For me personally, it has mostly happened among my family--at holidays or funerals. Sometimes it's happened with lovers, but that's not the sort of thing I'm talking about."

"Well then we won't go there. I respect your privacy. So what do you want to talk about?" Brian asked as he sat down the edge of his bed.

Paul blinked as he sank into a chair. "I don't know." He thought for a moment. "Would you tell me about the sword you wear? About the Traditionalists and more about why you decided to be with them?"

"Allow me to take those in reverse order, if you would. First, I joined the Traditionalists right after Morgan was murdered. I did it to escape the pressure and the guilt, I did it as a way of hiding from the universe, and I did it because I knew it was something my father wouldn't like.

"The Traditionalists are like monks from ancient Earth or perhaps Samurai would be a more accurate reference. They look down on most forms of technology, only allowing that which is absolutely essential. They are perfectionists and take everything quite seriously.

"They are artisans, craftsmen, warriors all in one. They--we--are called Traditionalists because we believe in the traditions of our Elders.

"Honor and integrity are very important to us..

"The sword, well, I forged the sword. My blood is mixed in with the steel. There is part of me in it and not just my blood. So believe it or not, I can call the sword to me, and it will come. When i say it is my sword, that is exactly what I mean."

"How did it help you escape the pressure and the guilt--or did it?" Paul asked. "I can see it helping you to escape the pressure; you must have had to spend at least several months with them, learning to forge not just steel, but a weapon--as well as learning how to use it to, as you said, perfection."

"I guess escaping the guilt isn't exactly correct. Perhaps hide from the guilt would be more accurate. Throwing myself into a rather intensive training and indcotrination allowed me cover up or cover over the guilt.

"I was too busy, too involved, to feel much of anything."

"It's not always a bad thing to distract yourself from a loss," Paul said. "It stops you from wallowing in it. It allows you to go forward. It reminds you that you have a life. We have the rest of our lives to grieve, if we must. But I don't think the ones we lose would want us to spend the rest of our lives suffering because we lost them."

"You may be right, I am sure Morgan would want me to move on. I didn't think I was ready for that. Like we've talked about, I've jumped into encounters instead of looking for relationships up until now, but I think I'm ready now to look for Mr. Right or Mrs. Right instead of Mr. or Mrs. Right Now.."

"I hope you find him--or her," Paul said. He leaned against the back of the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. "So how do you reconcile a Traditionalist viewpoint with working on such a highly technological thing as a starbase?"

"I... have modified my beliefs somewhat. I still use technology as little as possible. One of the reasons I don't have a VISOR or any other technical aid for my blindness and of course I'm only working on the Star Base, more of guest if you will. I'm not in engineering or operations.

The holodeck is about the only area where I splurge or transgress, at least when it comes to technology."

"Could a ViSOR enable you to see?" Paul asked. "I honestly had just figured that your optic nerves must be so damaged that one wouldn't be practical or that you were one of the people who get intractable headaches from them."

"I don't really know for sure, I haven't checked it out yet. I've made a vow to myself that I'm not even going to try until I see the person that killed him and did this to me come to justice."

Paul nodded. "If nothing else, it's incentive to find Morgan's killer as quickly as possible. How's that going, by the way? Any leads at all?"

Brian shook his head, "Not much, really. Keep coming up against dead ends. I am starting to think it may not have been separatists. Might have been something more personal."

Paul considered that. "Torturing him to death and blinding you--that's frighteningly extreme if it's a jilted suitor. On the other hand, crazed political activists can also go to scarily extreme lengths. What makes you wonder if it might have been personal?"

"A lot of things just don't add up. The length that they went to is well beyond the pale. Separatists claim they care about Akadia, that the leadership is...I don't know, misguided, fools, Federation apologists, but desecrating a body like they did especially while he was still alive, especially by keeping him alive as long as they could on purpose, not something someone who loved Akadia would do You love Akadia, but you hate the people of Akadia.

"To know where Morgan and I were going to be alone took a great deal of intelligence, which I don't think the separatists have.

"And I think the most telling point is that no one claimed responsibility."

Paul nodded. "People who genuinely loved Akadia and its people wouldn't do something so horrific, much less claim to have had anything to do with it. It was too extreme for them. I agree with your feeling that the attack was probably more personal than political. The bastard who did that to you both is someone who needs to be found."

Brian turned to face the other man, his eyes, glass though they were, seemed to focus full on the other's face. "Off the record, Counselor, when I find them, I intend on killing them."

OFF



Lt.(jg) Paul Graves
Chief Counselor
SB-Protector

Lt. Commander Brian Windsong
Chief Diplomatic Officer
SB-Protector

 

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