The Direction of the Wind

Posted on Thu 19th Apr, 2018 @ 12:18am by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran & Elizabeth Anderson M.D.
Edited on on Wed 16th Sep, 2020 @ 2:49am

1,554 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Brushfires
Location: Transient Quarters
Timeline: Evening of the day that Hermes docks.

"I cannot change the direction of the wind, but I can always set my sails to reach my destination." --Jimmy Dean

Damion Ildaran walked down the curving residential corridor of Starbase Vanguard's Transient Deck, reading apartment numbers that were written in Arabic numerals and Vulcan ones, as well as in a couple of varieties of tactile lettering. He carried a large, gift-wrapped box under one arm, tied with a teal ribbon that formed a large, decorative knot on top of the box. The bow was fancier than Damion would ordinarily have chosen, but it went perfectly with the wrapping paper, and the computer had assured him that it was a suitable decoration.

If a computer couldn't judge what a holographic person would like, what could?

He rang the door chime and waited. It felt so odd to wait to see Elizabeth Anderson at a place that was neither her office on the Hermes nor her quarters. Changes in his life--leaving Turkana IV, joining Starfleet--had often been of his own choosing. This was not--and neither was his own transfer to Vanguard. He would have much preferred for the two of them to remain aboard the Hermes and set off for its next mission. Orders, however, were orders.

Elizabeth opted for a habit she'd learned when she was first activated and taught about humans. She walked to the door and opened it. "Hello, Damion. Would you like to come in?" She stepped back to give him room.

It seemed peculiar to greet him in an unfamiliar place. She felt like a different construct already, but Damion was the same person she'd known on Hermes, and they were friends. A sub-processor assured her that the unusual feelings were simply cognitive dissonance from being transferred to another location, and not being tied in with a mainframe database.

"Thank you," Damion said and stepped inside the small apartment so Elizabeth could close the door. "How are you liking it here?"

Anderson thought about that, about how to answer it. "I'm not sure yet, still evaluating things. It feels different from Hermes, more than just the size. I haven't yet found a place where I can look outside, yet there must be one. I can program it on that wall," she gestured to one across from her seating area, "but it isn't the same - it feels artificial." And some people would find that an odd thing for an AI to say, some part of her pointed out.

"Have a seat. We aren't in a hurry, are we?" she asked.

Damion shook his head. "We've a good twenty minutes before they'll expect us." He paused and set the box he carried onto the coffee table. "This is for you." Damion slid it toward Elizabeth. "It's a housewarming gift. Back home, we give them to friends and family when they move into new digs."

"Oh, what a ... I mean, thank you, but I'm surprised." She sat and pulled the box toward her, admiring the beautiful wrapping and bow. She looked up at him, "You know, one of the things that my own processors are developing is an appreciation for art, and this package is quite an art form." Carefully, she slipped the bow off and began on the paper. "It seems a shame to ruin it!" Should she admit no one had given her presents or taken her out socially before she met him? Maybe not.

"I...It is pretty," Damion said. "We never had wrapping paper like this at home. You just put your gift into a nondescript cloth bag so no one would think it was worth stealing. I'm glad you like it."

Finally, the paper was off and set aside, and Elizabeth looked at the box for a moment, then at Damion and she grinned. "You know, it's an unusual experience for me ... I don't know what's in this box!" She lifted the lid and looked inside, then reached in and carefully pulled out the gift, spreading it across her lap. It was a blue knitted blanket of a braided cable knit design. "It's beautiful! Where did you ever find such a thing?" she asked. She thought the emotion she felt might be labeled surprise, but there was something else, too, and she couldn't pin it down.

"I made it," Damion said. "I started back before I even knew if you kept physical things. But I went on with it, anyway. I was going to give it to you on your birthday or Christmas, but now seemed a good time."

"You made this for me?" the EMH asked, clarifying what her sensors had heard. "With your own two hands? I've never ... I mean, you invested yourself in this! It had to take hours and hours. Why would you do that?" She was still a little off balance, struggling to comprehend this simple gift that was anything but simple. She had come to think of Damion as a friend, to the extent that she understood such a concept, but .... Why would a human being devote so much time to making something for me?

"I'm sorry, my manners are definitely lacking, but I was so surprised. Thank you, Damion. I will keep this forever." She ran her hands over the soft yarn, her processors increasing to normal parameters again. And just like that, she knew something was up, and she deduced what it might be. Everything clicked into place as her eyes looked up and met his. "You're leaving, aren't you? You're saying goodbye."

Damion blinked. "What? No, not exactly," he said. "I've been transferred to Vanguard--but there's a catch. My current assignment is as an infiltration specialist. I'll be based out of here, but I'll be traveling a lot. I could be gone for days or weeks at a time, once I figure out where I need to be. I won't look, act, or sound like a Starfleet officer, the next time you see me. My uniform's the first thing that has to go, then my accent, then my appearance. That's best done now, while almost no one here knows me."

He paused, inhaled, let his breath out. "You might not like what you see, the next time we meet, and that frightens me the most of all, because I don't want to lose your friendship for the sake of my work. And I don't want the work to change me. I don't want to be like the person I was when I first left home; I spent too many years trying to unbecome him--but acting like that bloke is what the job requires. It's the only way I'll get in among the people I'll need to know." He shot her a momentary smile. "That blanket is not a good-bye. It's my promise to myself and to you that I'll fight tooth and nail to get back."

Though Elizabeth seldom devoted all her processing capability to one topic, she did this time, listening to what Damion was saying, what he wasn't saying, and his biochemical responses, all at the same time. She heard the worry in his voice, and a touch of fear. She heard the determination and the promise. She heard the practicality and the curiosity, as well as the dread and the disgust. Instinctively hugging the knitted blanket close to her, she gave some nanoseconds of thought to how to respond. As a counselor, it was easier than as a woman, but maybe I can be both.

Carefully, she began, first as a doctor. "We all have layers ... personality, past, dream, hope, regret, wish ... they are part of everyone. I believe you can act as this person without becoming him permanently. No, I know you can, because when you say you fought it before, you really were like that, and you chose to change. You can and you will return to yourself."

"When you are finished with this assignment, come back and we'll start wherever we have to and work back to a point where you are ... satisfied. In the meantime, if I see you, I'll not believe what I see and hear, unless it's the you that I know. You do what you have to do. Your life is more important than anything else." The woman took over, not exactly pleading, but insisting. "We can't work you out of that character if you are no longer among the living. Stay among the living, whatever it takes."

Damion stared at Elizabeth, unable to speak for a moment. "That is the greatest gift you could have given me--your trust, your willingness to look beneath the surface." He let out a breath. "Thank you. That will be something I can hold onto, something I never had before." The tension faded from him, and he smiled at her. "And yes, Elizabeth, I will do my damnedest to stay among the living." He leaned back against the sofa--until a momentary glance at the clock on her wall had him sitting bolt upright. "And, speaking of living, we'd best hurry if we want arrive on time at this Orchids & Jazz place."

 

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