The Sandbox II

Posted on 19 Feb 2013 @ 3:40am by Crewman Athlen & Lieutenant Lilou Zaren & Raifi Zaren
Edited on on 19 Feb 2013 @ 3:43am

3,415 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Mess Hall
Timeline: MD3 1900 Hours

MOUSE OVER Trill language for translations!

OFF:

Last time on The Sandbox part I....

"What mutual benefits?"

"I enjoy speaking my native tongue. If Athlen learns it, there's another opportunity to do so. And I get to teach again, which is something... something I think I would enjoy, based on Selik's experience with it. So. We all thrive."

"And me?"

"You stop staring at me like I'm going to eat someone's child," he answered with a smile. "And then maybe other people will be more willing to talk to me about this mission I'm supposed to be covering."

"You've got an eye. On your throat. Do you know that?"

"I'm very aware."

Lilou sipped her water and set the glass down. "All right, Athlen. You've got two teachers."

And now, the conclusion...

ON:

The sociologist smiled. "Excellent. Thank you both." He rose the tiny metal spear with the wing-slug on it in cheers. "You have my gratitude." He began cutting into his syala after placing the slug back in its home on his plate. Dessert always came first, after all. The joys of being an adult.

"Rengabi," both Trills said in concert, then stared at each other. Zaren bowed his head allowing the small, fiesty woman to continue.

"Ren. Gah. Bee," Lilou repeated slowly. "Grateful. Heart."

"Rengah-bi," Athlen copied knowingly. There was that suffix again. He pulled up his PADD and wrote a notation of that as well. "How do you say," he blinked and gestured, "How do you say? Or, what is the word for?" he was easily falling into language-learn mode, but he was slower, translating between three languages at once wasn't exactly a picnic.

"'How do you say': zak ni nahizar'xi," Zaren answered, prodding through his bowl for another delectable slug.

"Ahh. Zak ni nahirzar'xi -" he gave a sheepish look, since his rendition sounded horrible even to his own ears, "- the order of words? For example, Federation Standard is subject, verb, object. That is, sally - throws - ball." He made a gesture. "Standard Rigelian also follows this pattern. What is it for Trill?" he frowned a little. "Zak ni nahirzar'xi 'what is'... also useful..." he was writing things down in his PADD as he went along.

"Ka da'xi," Zaren replied around another mouthful. "'What is'."

"The order," Lilou added quietly, "is subject object verb. So... rather than 'Sally throws the ball'. You might say 'Sally this ball throws'."

SOV, Athlen wrote in the side. "Da, is... ka, what. Xi, is this a signifier? I've noticed your intonation follows a less linear pattern. Is that like a question?"

"Exactly so," Lilou agreed. "In Trill, one uses verbal signifiers for questions, exclamations, and intonations in an effort to avoid tonal misunderstandings."

"'Zak ni nahizar'xi' translates directly in Standard as: how to speak-question."

"I see," Athlen nodded. "So. Zak ni nahizar sociologist'xi?" he tried.

"'Sociologist' zak ni nahizar'xi," Zaren pointed out. "And the answer is chizgizartea'deku."

"Ah. So." He composed himself and read from the PADD. "Zhial'xek. Izena ja da Athlen. Chiz...uh, chiz-giz-atea'deku ja da. Suira eguxalo'xek. Did I get any of that right?"

"Zhial'xek. Athlen izena ja'uz da; chiz-giz-aRtea'deku da. Suira eguxalo'xek," Lilou murmured.

"Except," Zaren pointed out, "you don't need to say Zhial'xek and Suira eguxalo'xek. One or the other is fine." He smiled. "And the 'xek is a way of establishing a sense of excitement. Just so you know. Use it too much in your speech and you'll sound like me when I was a teenager."

Athlen ducked his head and buried his embarrassed laugh in another wing-slug. Once he was finished chewing, he picked up his PADD and wrote down the extra note in the corner. "So, it's just zhial and suira eguxalo, then. Emotions through indicators," he mused to himself. The effect that might have on a society, it was immensely intriguing.

"It's not as though we're deadpan," Zaren chuckled. "They're there to clarify intent. You're a quick study."

"I've had to be," Athlen mumbled almost to himself. "So, what does that mean for person to person contact? What if I attached an indicator that wasn't necessarily true, for example? Do you just have to take people at their word? Or are there other, tonal clues? Emotional signifiers are pretty deliberate - or are they? Is it unconscious?" Athlen blinked, turning another page in his PADD to write more notes.

Zaren looked to Lilou and found her staring right back at him intently. He smiled. "All right, I'll take this one. We're raised to understand that words have immense power, over the psyche, the mortal experience, relationships, personal development, etc. So truth and clarity are very large parts of our language. Of course there are those who are deceitful, but being caught in a lie can leave you in dishonor for years if not a lifetime. At its worst, it can end with your expulsion from Trill entirely. But more than that, more than any fear of reprimand, we're encouraged to communicate clearly in the interest of communal betterment. It's difficult to contribute to a meeting or a concept if you're unclear. It's difficult to make sure you're being taught the skills and information that interest and improve you as a unique individual if you're not specific about your needs. It's just better for everyone if we're all clear and on the same page."

"That's pretty familiar," Athlen nodded. "Although for mostly opposite reasons, at least for Rigelians." He nearly drained his tea while he thought of how to word his next question. "So as a species, you would describe Trills to be more or less concerned with the whole picture? The gestalt view?" Which made sense to him, considering how long-lived symbionts were, as far as he understood.

"If you don't consider the whole picture, you get lost in the minutiae of the day to day. And that way leads to greed, selfishness, waste of time and skills. Better to aim high, and take the time and focus to get there. Patience and clarity lead to peace."

"I see, okay," Athlen said thoughtfully, although his tone didn't suggest whether or not he agreed or disagreed, more like he was taking the information in objectively via research-mode. "What do you think?" he asked Lilou, blinking toward her mildly.

Lilou turned her leaves over on her plate. "I think that Trill has never had a war in recorded history. And that they won't allow me to even step onto the planet because of something my father did. They have their flaws, but whatever they're doing as a whole seems to be working for them."

"Us," Zaren said.

"Them," Lilou looked at him seriously.

Athlen stared at them both, gaping. "You're serious? You've never had a war? Ever? How? How is that even possible? What about murderers, or, like -" he realized he was probably sounding awful and closed his mouth.

"There are flawed individuals, of course. Those who let their passions take the better of them and lose sight of reason," Zaren explained solemnly. "Ours is not a perfect world, but we have avoided the largest of hostilities in favor of cooperation. And we hope, always, for a time when peace will find its way to everyone."

"No way," Athlen maintained, staring down at his PADD and typing in the commands to bring up the historical archives section. It was amazing, but - he shook his head. How was it possible? What kind of brain did someone have to have? Even Terrans and Risians had wars. "So you have never had oppression? Or terrorism? Or anything? I mean, if there is a flawed individual, there has to be a flawed group? I'm - I mean," Athlen coughed. "I'm not, like, you know. It says here, I mean, it must be true - but - how?" He looked very lost.

"We've been guided by the wisdom of the symbionts," Zaren smiled. "We are fortunate to share a world and a bond with them."

"Apparently," Athlen spoke absently, absorbed in the text in front of him. "This is, fascinating. So do the symbionts have their own society and culture, are they sentient, as well? Or, how does that work?" he asked, no more able to stop being curious than he was able to stop breathing.

Zaren laughed out loud. "Yes. We're sentient." He kept laughing as he began breaking the brownies into bite-sized pieces. "And we don't have a 'society' exactly. We have no need for one. A society is a set of social rules in order to enforce an order. We've never found a need for order. Merely communication."

"But you just said that if people don't follow the social order, they get exiled?" Athlen frowned.

"We, symbionts," Zaren clarified. "This is why Trill needs the specifics I mentioned earlier."

"Y-- oh," it dawned on the Rigelian that Zaren was speaking as Zaren. He helped himself to some of the soup on the side of his tray. Zupa-something-something. He barely tasted it as he continued to read the information on his PADD. "So when you are, Joined," Athlen looked up and met Zaren's eyes, "is that like a bond? Or, do you become part of the same... pa gen azo, the same mind area?" he gave a futile, helpless little gesture and tried to rephrase. "Is it a connection or do you just merge into one new thing?"

"We're considered an entirely new person with each successive Joining."

Athlen thought back to the complicated math classes he'd taken just prior to joining Starfleet, but he wasn't even sure how it worked for his own people let alone what it would mean for a Trill. Truthfully it never made a lot of sense to him. It just was. "Do symbionts have a mind? Do they have thoughts like we do? Are they like people? Or are they a whole new kind of life?"

Lilou busied herself with eating.

Meanwhile, Zaren cackled, pleased. "Yes, we have minds. We are minds, really. But humanoids are concerned with many things that we do not find necessary. We commune with each other. There is no need for strength in anything but health, and in the Caves of Makala, the health of one affects the health of all. We focus on improving each other's welfare. Sharing dreams and expectations. Absorbing the energy of the planet through the pools. It is a peaceful life, before Joining, but not what I would call 'adventurous'."

"Suira'xek," Athlen said with a grin. He focused on actually tasting the soup in front of him. Sorrel, he remembered after a while. Sorrel soup. Sorwaycacyzy. Swaycky. Szczawiowy? Something. So much for eidetic memory. Salty, but good, but Athlen wasn't a fussy eater. "Rengabi. For answering my questions," he smiled.

"Any time," Zaren popped a bite of the brownie into his mouth and blinked hard. "By the stars, that is hot."

Athlen crossed his arms and didn't at all pout. Nope. "At least you get one," he rolled his eyes.

"Wha-wha-why dont you? Here." The Trill shook his head, offering one of the spicy brownies to the Rigelian.

"If it's so spicy, why are you eating it?" Lilou asked.

"It's good."

Lilou rolled her eyes and returned to finishing her salad.

Athlen held up a hand and shook his head. "I'm not permitted," he groaned with the air of a child who had been told the only dessert they were expected to eat came out of a tube attached to a hypospray. "Replicator for me. The amount of sugar that goes into something like that," he slouched and leaned forward shiftily, "would have an intoxicating effect on my physiology." He scowled as though it were the end of the world, sighed and stuck his fork into his replicated, synthetic food. "I program an alternative. Like refined azu. Almost as good. Not as good as Real Dessert." He lamented, but shrugged. "Want some?" he poked the plate with his pastry tower on it outward and sipped some more bened.

"Sugar is supposed to be intoxicating," Zaren beamed at him.

"You mean, as a Rigelian? Or you personally?" Lilou asked curiously.

"As a Rigelian," Athlen confirmed with a nod. "Small amounts such as what might be found in this, or this," he gestured to the soup and wing-slugs. "Not as much. But I avoid nonreplicated dessert, or things I know are made with an excess. Coffee, tea, sugar, soda. Doesn't help that Starfleet acts like I'm going to fly off the handle and Hulk out," he grinned, "if I don't maintain control at all times. Of course, Vulcans don't have those restrictions." He made a face. "I'm glad they've read a textbook or two, but I don't think they really get how that works," he devolved into a grouch.

"How does it work?" Now Athlen had gained the full curiosity of both Trills.

Athlen blinked and thought long and hard on that for a while before answering. "Well, there aren't many Rigelians that serve in Starfleet. I think this is because there is paranoia on both sides. People look at Vulcans, and what they were, or they look at a Romulan, who is emotional. And then they look at us." He gave a pointed look. "We're not in the military. We don't put a spin on honor or logic. What's holding us together? According to most, we are erratic," he grinned, "Unstable, irrational, superstitious, oh - mentally ill - I forgot mentally ill." He held up a finger ironically. "In a way, they are right. We're honest. That's it really. It is sort of like what you described above, only the reason is not collective. Most Rigelians when they are born, struggle with that aspect of themselves. Most Rigelians want to have control, because the alternative doesn't feel very good. Imagine having a mood swing every two seconds. One minute," he snapped his fingers. "So we're taught to be honest, as a way to help that, and then to deal with the situation that's arisen. What we feel, why we feel it, and what would help that feeling. Eri'tan'vri. What Vulcans call C'Thia, what Romulans call Mnhei'sahe."

Lilou blinked. "Being telepathic must be miserable."

Athlen pressed his lips together and poked his metal skewer through another slug. "It can be, I guess. I wouldn't trade it. I can't imagine another way of living."

"I'm sure you can imagine one," Lilou said.

"Can you imagine not being Trill?" Zaren asked.

She looked at him dolefully. "I don't have the slightest idea what being Trill means or feels like to other people. But I've been around enough full Terrans and full Trill to imagine what it might be like on either side. Yes. I think so."

"You're fun," Zaren grinned, then turned to Athlen. "So your culture uses honesty as a means of self-policing?"

"What about not having emotions?" Athlen put to her. "Or, not being able to feel empathy, or connection to others? It's a little like that. While Rigelians aren't on the same level as Betazoids or Vulcans, telepathy is part of who we are, how we feel things. It would be like losing the ability to feel pain, or pleasure. It isn't just a sense, it's part of how our brain functions," he tried to explain, his tone amicable as ever. "In a way you're right," he looked to Zaren. "You remember what I said about murderers and whatnot, when you spoke about war? Well in Vulcanoid history, people like that are actually fairly rare. Psychopaths, sociopaths, people without empathy. They're usually people who have something wrong with their telepathy, actually. For us, it is more a matter of having a means to live better, to live with emotions. Most don't want to be fighting and killing. It's a byproduct of your path, of your environment. So when you open up a new path," he gestured both hands palm-up again.

Lilou was positive that a world where she couldn't feel pain was a totally reasonable world to seek out. A lack of pain would be brilliant. Could she give up empathy for that? If there was a way to turn it off, not just ignore it, but totally remove it from herself? It might be a fair trade. "A new path of what?"

"Of living, with your experiences," Athlen clarified, shoveling down more of his pastry. He apparently had decided it was time for a historical lesson. With pastry and wing-slugs. "The sen shenmiaraike, as we call it. When our ancestors stepped onto Rigel V, the first thing they saw was this ocean." He spread his hands apart, smiling. "Lahktamirake, they called it. The Tsunami. They thought the planet had made the ocean to store in its depths all the agony they had brought with them, all the dead, the blood spilled since then. It was there to rage and suffer. So it became a symbol for that which is within us."

"Your ancestors made the ocean their catharsis?"

"In a way, yes. For our generation, the ocean is a metaphor," Athlen said mildly. "For what is within. The Rage and fear and anguish. We feel very deeply, and most of the time, without a path, we don't know what to do with it. The Catharsis, comes from us. We separate conflict and follow it to its conclusion, no matter how tedious it can be. We are taught to be honest, and self-reflective, so it is usually a matter of allowing Expression, and Resolution. One feels, and then one feels because, one lives with that how." Another shrug. "I imagine it must be a little like what you would call counseling, except it occurs in our daily lives."

Zaren stifled the spice of the dessert with more slugs. "So why is it that other nations have come to the opinion that you're mentally ill? It sounds to me as though you're handling a bound consciousness in a far more positive way than simply shoving into the back recesses of your mind."

Athlen had a few good guesses. "I'm assuming it's because we take the meaning of Catharsis pretty literally. For instance, it's acceptable on my world to challenge someone you're having a conflict with to what's called a complex-meditative spar. Essentially a fight. It's also acceptable to go away and yell, rage. Pick flowers. Dance. Whatever you like. Usually two people don't leave until it is settled somehow. There's lots of ways to do that. And because of what people know of Vulcanoids, that slants the way we are perceived." He spoke more quietly. "So, I think, those who consider us that way, they don't trust that we can integrate or adapt into another society." He finished the last slug on his plate.

"But you do. And quite well," Zaren shrugged. "So long as an encounter is resolved without lasting violence, harm, or ill will, then why should it matter how that resolution came about?"

"That's basically it," Athlen agreed. "I think, in the end, peace is really the best that any society can hope for. Nobody's perfect, as they say."

"Exactly so."

OFF:

Lilou Peers
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galileo

Crewman Athlen
Sociologist, SSC
USS Galileo
(PNPC Liyar)

Raifi Zaren
FNN Journalist
USS Galileo
(pNPC Lilou Peers)

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