A Vulcan's Lament
Posted on 04 Nov 2024 @ 10:40pm by Ensign S'Ers-a M'Lyr'Zor & Lieutenant JG Hovar Kov
Edited on on 14 Nov 2024 @ 12:23am
3,449 words; about a 17 minute read
Mission:
Episode 20 - Reconstruction
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 7, Gym
Timeline: MD06 - 0800
[ON]
Running. Meditation in motion. At least, it had been in the past. Today it felt like Sera was attempting to outrun her thoughts...and she was failing. 'Hooks' had been set in her mind and they tugged rather uncomfortably. There was no way to adequately explain the sensation, but what had started as an encounter fueled by confrontation, and somehow--rather inexplicably--morphed into something that was spiraling out of control.
Vulcans did not behave in the manner she had. Vulcans could control themselves, remained logical, and most definitely did not repeatedly mate with a human whom she was starting to think of as hers.
"Nirsh!" She censored herself aloud. That inner voice, that primal predator that lurked within the dark recesses of her mind was getting far too much play time lately. After their most recent encounter - a taboo act that Sera felt inexplicably ambivalent towards - it was becoming clear that she had lost complete control over the situation. She should be experiencing discomfort over her outrageous behavior...but that primal part...the hungry part...
She forcefully shook out her hands while keeping a brutal running pace in a jerking movement as if to shake of the bad energy like water droplets. Why could she not get her mind off this particular path? Was it all inevitable given the recent debriefing that confirmed her fears that the mental episodes were in fact memories. She still felt it...the echo of a connection that never technically happened...perhaps that was what was driving her?
This was not supposed to happen. Sera had resigned herself to a few years--at most--of productivity which did not include the machinations of her clan before the inevitable end of things - she was ultimately a slave to her own biological functions, after all...and now? Her family would never accept this possibility. It's not a possibility. It is NOT going to happen. I must find a way to stop this! Do you want to stop this? Can you stop this? She outwardly snarled in exasperation and as punishment turned up the speed of the treadmill. Like this somehow could be run out of her. So focused on her own inner turmoil, Sera did not hear the doors to the gym hiss open or notice the large Klingon chaplain who strode in.
Even though the Chaplain likes to wear a distinctive uniform, for PT he wore the standardized PT uniform of Star Fleet. However, as he was a non-standardized Star Fleet officer, at least as far as the ship is concerned, everyone knew who and what he was. The previous 24 hours had been a long day, and he wanted to "blow off some steam" as the humans would say. When he was relieved by the Counselor, Hovar made his way to his quarters real quick to enjoy a pre-workout meal, change into his PT uniform, and made his way to the gym.
When he entered the gym, he realized that he would not be alone. To his surprise, he found that it was Ensign Sera on a treadmill. What caught his attention was that she was moving rather quickly, real quickly. Courtesy required for him not to interrupt, but he couldn't help but keep an eye on her, just in case something happened. With that in mind, he went to the treadmill next to her, starting at a much slower speed, but the incline started at about 3%. Hovar's cardio program was meant to go the distance with heavy weight on his back with some aspect of speed. He looked ahead as he started with a brisk walk to warm himself up.
The Klingon...what was it...Cheplaine? Priest? Holy man. Hovar, Lieutenant. Her mind silently provided. He started on the treadmill next to her, going at a much slower pace to her all out sprint. Oh. She really was sprinting. How long had that been going on for? The numbers blinking back at her showed well over 10 kilometers had been traversed, and at her pacing the muscles in her legs were beginning to protest, and she reached out and slowed down speed to begin cooling down. Part of her was displeased at this, but as running in an all-out sprint didn't help, it would appear that another activity would be necessary to 'clear' her mind. Or perhaps there was no clearing to be had...the urge to choke the shit out of something rose up. That is not helpful. she silently chided.
"Greetings, Lieu...Cheplaine Hovar." Sera breathlessly said to him after she realized she hadn't even acknowledged him.
Hovar glanced at her and he smiled warmly at her, noticing that she almost used his rank. Her breathless attitude was not lost to the Klingon, although it was rather...interesting. One thing that intrigued him was what her machine said to her, 10 kilometers. That told him one of two things. Either she was there for quite some time and took a very comfortable pace or she maintained that sprint for quite some time. In either case, Hovar let that curiosity be put to rest.
"Hello Ms. Sera, always a pleasure."
He waited a moment of silence as he asked gently,
"How are you doing?"
Vulcans did not inquire about others' well-beings. It was considered intrusive. However, having lived with aliens over over six years, she had grown used to such questions. For them it was a way to attempt connection - and such things were needed as far out as they were from the comforts and familiar faces of home. She opened her mouth to provide the appropriate response, "I am fine," however no words came out. To say so would be an overt falsehood, however Sera wasn't one to divulge what was on her mind.
"The last week has had its challenges." She finally settled on. Hovar was here for physical activity, not to listen to any of her woes, certainly. Reaching out, she reduced the speed yet again, slowing enough to a quick walk.
Hovar listened to the Vulcan, and he sped up the pace by a small amount. He wasn't going for speed, just endurance, so he elevated the treadmill slightly as well.
"I can only imagine."
The Klingon contemplated everything that had happened. Within a week's time, he got introduced to a brand new crew, his "parishioners," as well as to the ship, his "parish." He attempted to get used to every one, with various degrees of success. Since he was one of the brand new officers, he suspected that it was partly with him being viewed as a stranger, something that he had been working on.
"Honestly, I'm rather proud everyone, considering the circumstances."
He took a few breaths as he gathered his thoughts.
"Temporal disturbances, hallucinations, phantom memories...the crew went through a very hard experience. To be able to get up the next day and continue to do their duty is nothing to make light of. It inspires me to be honest. Between you and me, I thought that I would have been killed the moment people realized what the Klingons did. That makes me a very grateful person."
"I think you might have been disappointed. I recall another Klingon vessel...vaguely. They...they helped us? I am not certain. I was...not well." Sera shook her head quickly, as if to chase away the impromptu wave of angst that threatened to break against her. Back to the present, please. "Regardless, it would appear our actions have potentially changed...everything."
Hovar glanced at his Vulcan friend, and there were red flags going off inside of his head. This was also a time where two words were paramount to his entire ministry: treat carefully. He clung onto every word that he said, as well as her actions. The Klingon could only go by what is given to him, by what is told to him. His mindset was no longer focused on PT. Instead, Hovar turned off the machine, maintaining his expression. PT can wait, the concerns of a friend cannot. Hovar also disregarded all customs and courtesies of Star Fleet regulations. Such actions was one of the few treasures afforded to him by his position.
"You sound concerned, Sera."
"I..." Sera responded hesitantly. Concerned? She was uncertain what exactly she was experiencing. To give herself something to do, and a buffer of time to further consider, Sera reached out and turned the machine off and gripped the bar in front of her as the treadmill ground to a halt. She stood there panting, holding onto the bar--which transmitted biometrics to the screen--and saw that her heart rate was grossly elevated far beyond simple physical expenditure. Her hands released from the bar as if burned and the numbers blinked out of existence.
"Have a seat on the biobed. Your heart rate and endorphin levels are also unusually high. In Vulcans this would usually suggest sexual arousal or extreme anxiety, but...I don't have enough available data from you to compare with any baseline levels..." The EMH's words echoed through her mind unbidden. Uncertainty shifted to foreboding. Would the visions, no, memories...would what occur happen again? Was it happening again?
Her silence stretched on, well beyond a comfortable pause. What exactly was she doing here? "My behavior has become inexplicable to me, Hovar." Not even realizing that she had failed to use his appropriate (and well earned) professional title, Sera visibly swallowed, but felt as if she had grains of sand along her tongue.
The drop of formalities meant as much to Hovar as Klingon opera meant to a human child high on pixie sticks and Kool Aid: absolutely nothing. Instead, Hovar remembered his training, especially his lesson on just being present with someone, in the moment. He didn't judge her for being in her current state. He had no idea what was going on with her, and frankly it didn't matter in one key aspect: he didn't want her to feel like she was going through it alone.
"It will be okay Sera. Try explaining it to me. Whatever you are facing, we will face it together."
Hovar looked around and motioned to a nearby bench near the squat rack, he also spotted a replicator adjacent to them.
"If you like, we can have a seat, have some water, a light snack. I know some humans enjoy chicken nuggets with a honey bbq sauce."
"I am not hungry." She might have said it a little more forcefully than necessary. When was the last time she ate? Was it Vulcan cuisine night? That...that had been days ago. Although it was true that Vulcans did not require as much caloric intake as other species, going whole days without eating was abnormal. "Your offer is acknowledged, Cheplaine, but I do not eat the flesh of animals." She did however, sit down at the end of the treadmill.
"I have been recently unwell." Sera began, knowing some background was necessary. "I returned to duty with the knowledge that I would serve honorably...while I could. I simply could not predict how quickly my hard earned recovery would...unravel?" She paused a moment, looking down to her running shoes for a moment before continuing. "I am not a 'good' Vulcan, and if these visions, no, memories are accurate, I am not a good officer either. It is difficult to reconcile."
Hovar sat down on the treadmill that he was on, listening and nodding in understanding. As she spoke, he realized that what she is experiencing is in certain ways similar to what Hovar experiences every time he looks in the mirror. His joys of ordination was shattered only minutes after he left the chapel. The wounds of his father's words are still fresh. He had expectations, and he betrayed those expectations, and it cost him, in effect, his entire existence. Hovar is a walking stain upon his house, and only by his family's actions did the house wipe their shame.
"As someone who is not a 'good' Klingon, I am curious on your idea of what a 'bad' Vulcan is."
"Emotions nearly destroyed my kind, but it was how to move forward from that watershed moment that truly created a schism - one that we have never recovered from. My own people were invited to leave Vulcan, all because there were those who felt Surak's teachings were too extreme...and those who remained were obligated to follow his dogma. My controls have never been exceedingly proficient, much to my mother's logical ire, and I was expected to behave in an obedient manner, which I circumvented in order to obtain temporary freedom....ah..." Sera huffed. How could she adequately explain constraints that he had no cultural understanding of?
"I struggle with control...My behaviors...my thoughts...they are not logical. I am concerned I am what secular Vulcan has insinuated...V'Tosh K'Tur." It was said in such a calm tone of voice for such a heavy confession.
The priest listened to the lamentations of his fellow officer. He had a very, very basic understanding of Vulcan culture; his knowledge was based on what he learned at the Academy. He looked away from her, looking at his own feet, looking at his hands that were bred for war. He remembered the trials that he endured when he was still a child, enduring pain that few could ever appreciate. He remembered the taste of his blood and bile when he was only half way through the pain sticks. All the Klingon could do was shake his head slightly as he murmured,
"And I thought I was the only one."
Taking a moment, he glanced at her and spoke,
"Believe it or not, I understand what you feel, only what I am called is different from what you fear you are. It is logical, and understandable, that there is an issue with your control, your behaviors, and your thoughts. What would make it illogical is if you decided to remain ignorant of it or if you decided to do nothing about it."
Hovar paused, contemplating it over,
"That is not the person who I met in the Chief Engineer's office the other day. I met a logical, controlled, well behaved, and thoughtful officer. I told you I shouldn't be left unsupervised in Main Engineering, and you convinced me to take a course so I could be trusted in your department."
Giving a small smile, Hovar concluded,
"If that doesn't prove that you're a good Vulcan and a good officer, I don't know what to tell you."
Sera understood what he was trying to do, and deep within she appreciated his gesture. If it was only so easy to have another point out the reality of things for such deep seated worries and concerns to dissipate. Nonetheless, he had provided a thoughtful response to her very hastily spewed concerns, and did so with no censure. That was quite a novelty.
Taking a deep breath, Sera slowly exhaled to recenter herself. It only worked so well, and it would take far more than a cleansing breath to bring things back into equilibrium...and she was really growing quite disillusioned with her attempts at meditation which brought little relief...but it did offer ample opportunity to think of him...argh.
Focus! "I mean no disrespect to your Klingon nature, Cheplaine However...You are very kind."
Hovar smiled, bowing slightly to Sera. That was the first time anyone complimented him in such a way. He enjoyed hearing those words. There was a part of him that acknowledged that if he was to be trusted with some of her misgivings, he would have to share some of is.
"No disrespect taken. I was actually excommunicated. Becoming a priest brought shame to my family. By removing my name, my family was able to wipe their shame."
There was a small shrug from the Klingon as he stated a matter of fact, but then he narrowed his eyes and glanced at her.
"Do you think my name is However?"
"My apologies. It is Hovar, correct? Federation Standard has unusual pauses that I am sometimes not accustomed to. I speak much faster in Vulkahnsu." With the apology out of the way, Sera focused on what he had shared with her. Excommunication. A loss of his family, his 'clan,' his place in the world...to become this Catholic 'priest.'
"It is unfortunate how heavy your cost was to pursue your purpose. To reciprocate...I am most likely facing the same, given my current...associations." Fvadt. She should not have said that.
A sly grin came from the Klingon at the curious slip of linguistics, but he let that go; instead, he looked forward into nowhere, contemplating everything that befell him. He took a breath as he thought about what to say. When he finally did, he glanced back at her.
"Whatever will join us in that respect, I wish I could provide some kind of relief. It will hurt for a while, but if your cause is just, none of that will matter. As my brother told me before he played his part in excommunicating me: we are brothers before any other rank. No matter what happens, no matter our status, I will be behind you no matter what to support you."
"That was very...thoughtful of your brother to say thus to you. Worthy parting words to remember." Sera at this point braved looking over to the Klingon priest and found his expression to be--what she interpreted anyway--open, and in a sense, vulnerable. "You honor me with your concern, Hovar...and I grieve with thee." It seemed like the right thing to say.
"It is I who am honored."
Hovar knew that such...gentle sincerity is typically only found in fairy tales and disturbing fantasies of the twisted minds of human fascination with Klingons. He had read some of them in his youth. He still gets nightmares from what he saw. However, Hovar didn't view discommendation with the stigma that it creates among his kind. Hovar is a warrior, but a peaceful warrior. He is a killer, but he kills to protect. Demonstrations of combat meant nothing to him. It was being there for someone going through a bad day that gave his life worth.
"Is there anything I can do for you to help you that you can think of?"
Sera gave careful consideration of his inquiry that it deserved before shaking her head laterally that was a common nonverbal gesture amongst many species as 'no.' "You have offered me the external insight that I lacked. I will consider your words further...I will also express contriteness in taking you away from your physical activities, although I will postulate that you will demur from agreeing." Placing her hands at her sides, she pushed herself to standing and felt the quivering in her thighs from the brutal pace she had set in an attempt to run from her thoughts. It was a small price to pay for the exchange, as it gave further insight into Hovar as an individual.
Standing up as well, Hovar observed that Sera was a little bit unsteady at her feet. He kept a close eye on her to make sure that she didn't fall down.
"I'm a chaplain, not an athlete."
Giving a smile, Hovar gave her a good look over.
"Are you going to be able to make it back to your quarters or do you need help?"
"I will be able to return to my quarters. Re-hydration and a sonic shower will assist in recovery. You offer to assist has been acknowledged." Sera looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "I think you are far more than what you purport yourself to be, Lieutenant." Dipping her head in a non-verbal Vulcan gesture of departure, Sera turned and made her way to the exit of the gym. Perhaps along with the shower and water maybe something to eat as well?
Hovar looked at her as she left, watching her leave the gym, and he pondered to himself everything that happened. Taking a breath, he looked at the treadmill that he was on. Climbing back on it, he turned the treadmill back on and started his exercise again, saying to himself:
"You've got a friend in me..."
[OFF]
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Ensign S'Ers-a M'Lyr'Zor
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galileo-A
&
Chaplain [LTJG] Hovar Kor
Chaplain
USS Galileo-A
[OFF]