Pop the Champagne (Part 5 of 6)

Posted on 12 Nov 2012 @ 7:11am by Rear Admiral Lirha Saalm & Captain Jonathan Holliday & Lieutenant Scott Parker & Lieutenant Commander Pola Ni Dhuinn M.D. & Lieutenant Commander Evelyn Coleman & Lieutenant Commander Dea Mialin & Lieutenant Theron Rhodes & Lieutenant Aria Rice & Lieutenant Kiri Cho & Lieutenant JG Delainey Carlisle & Commander Andreus Kohl & Commander Scarlet Blake & Lieutenant Commander Amynta Markos & Chief Warrant Officer 4 Cyrus Kiwosk & Command Master Chief Markum Quinn & Ensign Im'er Mor'an & Amril & Petty Officer 1st Class Gabriel Stark & Verity Thorne & Petty Officer 1st Class James Watt

3,075 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Episode 02 - Resupply
Location: USS Galileo - Mess Hall
Timeline: MD 04 - 1125 hrs

Previously, on Pop the Champagne (Part 4)...

"You are arguing on semantics," she snapped. "I have explained myself more than adequately that a strong work ethic produces positive results. I never said that I discourage it, that I create it, or that I tolerate it - nor was it ever suggested. My saying that I am more concerned with the end result does not mean that I am not concerned with how it is achieved. I encourage and accept diversity in my department, and that includes how people do their jobs. If someone can do the same thing that I can do, but in a different way, then who am I to say that my method is better if the same result achieved?" She slowly shook her head. "Methodology is subjective, the end result however is not."

"You operate under the assumption that I am arguing," Liyar said, as he tried to work out what she was even discussing. "Terrans puzzle me," he said, almost offhand, as if he had no idea that they were even arguing at all, or that she was defending herself from anything. "As for the statement you have just said, we are in agreement. However, my point of contention arises because I do not understand whether or not you value subjective input, as your semantics indicate that you do not. You have blatantly stated that it does not matter how something is achieved, as long as it is satisfactorily achieved." Liyar paused, and blinked, genuinely puzzled. "How can you claim to believe what you say when your semantics contradict this? I asked whether or not you believed your work ethic to be sub-par because I did not understand your semantics. It was not my intention to offend you. Forgive me if I have done so. Nevertheless, we appear to have differing motives for this discussion, and therefore I shall take my leave now."

And Now, the Continuation...

[ON]

Athlen watched while Liyar left, and sighed. That went rather terribly, as virtually every interaction Athlen had witnessed between Liyar and someone else had so far. He sincerely hoped he would be good enough at his job to get this under control. "He is probably telling the truth," he tried to console Maenad slightly. "His first day with me he took the time to tell me all the ways my little cubby hole broke regulation and that my uniform was worn wrongly, and that my clasp was against regulation, and demanded the reason why I constantly flirted with other crewmen when that was also against regulations." Athlen smirked at that. "Which it was not," he said, still grinning at Liyar's retreating form. "I assumed he was criticizing me. I am emotional, after all. It took a while, but he is likely just curious. He wanted to know why I did all that. He has only two months of offworld experience. To him, your arguments are semantic. His grasp of Standard is..." he waved a hand. "Walking dictionary, but much of the meaning is lost. Why do you think I follow him around all day?" another smirk. "His primary language has a heavy telepathic component, not like Golic or Traditional. You say one thing and he only understands half of it. Implied meaning is not there. Vulcans irritate you, huh?" he asked, leaning against the table casually and looking at Maenad without a hint of aggression, the friendly smile still on his features.

Feeling satisfied with herself, Maenad watched the vulcan leave. Never convinced that vulcans were emotionless, she thought that maybe she had hurt his feelings, not that she would have felt guilty if she had. Maenad had always thought a vulcan suppressing emotion was akin to her stubbing her toe and not crying about it. It still hurt, she still wanted to. "They do," she sighed in answer, looking at Athlen. "But it's only because I feel badly for them. It's not out of malice," she shrugged. "I've spent many months of my life on Vulcan, I've become numbed to their... illogic."

"I think he tends to be curious about out-worlders, about why they act how they do. It is why I got assigned to work with him. "You feel badly that they require to control their emotions?" Athlen asked again. "You realize the necessity, though, right? Since you studied pre-Reform Vulcans for your work on Vulcan? I do not really think it is about logic or illogic with him, somehow. I mean, you do realize when he said buhl'es he was referring to 'enthusiasm', yes? He was attempting to ask if you take in a person's enthusiasm for their work into consideration. That is, if you were willing to broker that enthusiasm in your subordinates. I think he is less of a Straw Vulcan than you might be accustomed to. He grew up in Miri'kahr, a clan associated with ancient lines, even before Surak himself. Vulcans from Miri'kahr are not like most Vulcans you have met. So even his rituals and languages are much different," Athlen explained.

"He has told me himself that he considers illogic the opposite of logic, not emotion. He was not attempting to undermine your logic. He simply didn't understand your words," Athlen explained, having seen the entire conversation offhand. "Perhaps you may have been right, but he was, far as as I can tell, simply trying to understand. I sincerely doubt he does not understand what he has done wrong, as he did so in quite his rather infuriating manner," Athlen said, and grinned.

"C'thia, as they say, does not actually mean logic. It means truth. Reality. His reasons for emotional suppression and his belief that emotions are to be distrusted come from the reason why all Vulcanoids require control. Why I, in fact, require emotional control as a Vulcanoid." He studied her thoughtfully, friendly as ever, his tone brokering absolutely no hostility, simply the friendliness that he took on whenever spoke of things he had some knowledge in. Hopefully, he hoped that this would help the two of them in the future.

"All of our cultures, Romulan, Vulcan, Rigelian, require some form of control or else they could revert back to their ancestors. Vulcans practice Suppression. Romulans practice Discipline, which is why theirs is a military society. Rigelians practice Catharsis. And that is why we obtain the very flattering appellation of a hedonistic society. Catharsis is very simple. When we are angry, we fight. Or we have sex. Or we sit down and fully debate in the most boisterous way imaginable until it is resulted. Family meals tended to be fun." Athlen grinned. "We are always blunt with our feelings at all times, and have learned practices to get them under control." Athlen shrugged.

"Such as kan'jaan for me, fighting, and of course sex. Our society evolved as a result to be perfectly blunt, and it reduces conflict to a surprising minimum. However, Starfleet limits that alternative, and so I have actually approached Liyar to help me with meditative techniques which he believes I may find useful. I would truly suggest you try again. Maybe in a less formal setting. We could meet together at my office, if you like. I would rather that two chief department officers not antagonize one another. And I do believe it falls within my purview, to assist with interspecies conflicts. Would you object to this?"

This was all the exact opposite of what Maenad wanted to hear. It sounded as though Athlen wanted her to take part in some sociological experiment of his. She was a science officer and a scholar, not a doctor. She had always avoided doctors; she had always feared them, having a phobia of illness and disease. "I don't know, crewman," she whined. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing she could do. It was Liyar who had failed in communication; it was Liyar who had instigated whatever had just happened.

"It seems to me that this would be a counsellor's jurisdiction," she said seriously. "But if Liyar is your friend, maybe he will listen to you." Maenad realised that she didn't really know what she was talking about anymore. Not only that, but she didn't want to be drawn into Liyar's personal problems, of which there seemed to be many. She also disagreed with Athlen's interpretation on how and why vulcans suppressed emotion and didn't want to get into an argument with him too. Her blood still rushing and further argument ready on her tongue, she laughed dismissively. "I wouldn't be any help," she said. "And I think I had better be going."

"Not to worry. What I offered was voluntary, and not at all some attempt at counseling either of you," he said, recognizing her reticence. "I am simply doing my job, which has nothing to do with counseling. I am not attempting to work or sort out any personal problems. And," he said, with a smile, "It was entirely his fault." He shrugged, as if that was common knowledge. "What I offered was not to play peacemaker, nor to defend my superior," he assured simply. "As you can see, he pisses off everyone. My primary job aboard this ship is to assist where cultural boundaries divide. When I offered that, it was with the hope that you would be willing to learn to work together, especially as your departments are fairly entwined. I cannot blame you for declining, but I hope you will try again at some point."

As unperturbed as ever, smile still on his face, Athlen bowed to Maenad. Before he left, however, he picked up a cup of steaming hot chocolate off of a serving tray, noting her empty hand, and offered it to her. "I hear these marshmallow things are quite tasty. And, there is foam. And whipped cream." He turned around at that and grabbed one for himself, before turning back, still holding the one meant for her out. "Truce?"

Utterly frustrated, Maenad stood in front of Athlen facing him, but looking past him. The rings around her eyes were dark and her skin as pale as ever. Whatever had happened, her first social interaction on a large scale had completely failed, and all thanks to a vulcan who had misunderstood her haphazard attempt to be affable. And, by the sound of it, Athlen felt under attack too. I'm the one who was attacked she shouted within the confines of her skull. "We were never at war, Mister Athlen." She closed her eys and looked to the floor, resigned.

The Rigelian merely tilted his head, and set down the extra cup amicably. He didn't appear remotely offended, but decided against speaking further, since the woman before him appeared unduly agitated.

"Excuse me," she had now realised that Kohl had left her side - probably annoyed by the exchange with Liyar, she thought. Thinking he didn't want to be embarrassed by her, that didn't want to seem too cordial with someone as impatient, as argumentative, as her. Feeling suddenly alone, she wanted to get out of there. Before Athlen could stop her, Maenad disappeared into the thick of the roaring crowd. On her way through, a waiter refilled her glass and she downed it by the time she had reached the doors. She set her empty glass on a table and headed for her quarters.

"I honestly have no idea what just happened," Athlen said to himself as Maenad left, arching his eyebrows in genuine confusion. Alone at the table once again, he merely picked up another cupcake and bit into it.

Dea continued to walk around the reception. Talking to various members of her department here and there. Glancing around the room it appeared there were some of her fellow crew that had made close friends with others. So far Dea's attempts at that had not gone so well or were ended due to various factors that were just part of life in Starfleet. One day she hoped that would change. "Its a nice reception."

Lirha walked up next to the flight control chief and gave her a a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "Yes, I think it turned out quite well." she mused with a smile as she looked at the attractive Trill and Betazoid woman. "Are you enjoying yourself so far?" she asked.

Surprised to see the Captain had answered her question. "A break from duty in any form is a good thing." It was the closest answer Dea could give to a yes for several reasons, "Congratulations on your promotion."

"Thank you." Lirha replied with a nod. "But I believe the congratulations goes to you for your skillful piloting. Not many helm officers in the fleet could land a Nova Class under the conditions in which you did. A job well done, I must say." she added, giving the flight control chief a sincere compliment and thanks for keeping her ship together in one piece.

A compliment from her Commanding Officer was unexpected. "Thank you captain. I was simply doing my job." She really didn't want to make too much of the situation because it had come at a price for all of them. Dea's words had been heartfelt, yet accurate.

Mor'an entered the reception late, but she didn't mind. She was content to blend into the crowd of people and simply observe. People-watching was a pastime that she enjoyed -- it was fascinating to watch the behaviors of other species.

"Brandy?"

The man who spoke stood behind Mor'an, holding out one of the glasses he carried. Both were half-filled with an amber liqueur. "Name's Watt," the man said, "Striker Watt."

Turning, Mor'an observed the young man that had just spoken to her. He exuded confidence. Too much confidence, for Mor'an's liking.

"No, thank you," she said, turning back to face the other way.

Unphased, James downed half of his glass and moved around to stand next to the cadet. "Not a brandy fan?" he asked her.

"No," she replied, giving him a sideways glance.

"Well." He raised his glass, "Do you mind?" He downed the glass anyways and then took a moment to study her features, swirling the second glass in his hand. "How about synthahol? Or some punch?"

"I do not drink alcohol for recreational purposes," Mor'an said in a flat voice. Maybe if she wasn't interesting he would go away. "And I do not like punch. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He gave her a smile and a sidelong glance as he sipped his brandy.

Mor'an shook her head ever so slightly at his response, gaze intent on the mingling crowd.

"You're a people watcher," the young man continued matter-of-factly, gesturing with the pointer finger of the hand holding his glass, "You should be out there with them instead. Something tells me you aren't as much of a vulcan as you look. You want to fit in with them... don't you?"

Mor'an rolled her eyes and turned to face the man. "I am not a vulcan," she said insistently, yet not angrily."I should think the ridges on my face gave that away. As for 'fitting in,' I can fit in with any grouph of people I choose to. At the moment, I choose to watch." She eyed the man, taking note of his calm gaze. "Who are you?"

"The new engineering officer. I'm glad to hear you don't think you're a vulcan though. Terribly dry people, don't you think?"

Mor'an cast him another sideways glance. "I do not think they are dry or otherwise. My race is similar to theirs, hence the reason for you having mistaken me for one. I take it you are not partial to vulcans?"

"Ah," he continued with a smile, "then if you are similar, it should not surprise you that I suggested you were like a vulcan."

"I am not surprised," Mor'an said, "Which is why I did not become offended. However, I look different enough from a vulcan that you should have seen the difference."

James chuckled and downed another swig of brandy. "I did see it, that's why I said you weren't as much of a vulcan as you looked, and that you admitted yourself."

"Very well," Mor'an said with finality. She decided to change the subject. If he was going to stay around they might as well talk about something less annoying. "Where are you from?"

"Volan III," came the reply. "But I don't think we were properly introduced. Striker Watt."

"I am Im'er Mor'an, Daughter of Im'er An'aley, of the Order of Ban'kina." She twisted her hand in the Tarkannan greeting. "You may call me Mor'an."

"Thank you," he said graciously. "My real name is James Watt, but you may call me Striker."

Cyrus had made his rounds from person to person before spying the cadet and his roomate talking. He chuckled and gave a small thumbs up and pretended to throw a chair and act like a Klingon before turning around and making for a new guest to chat with.

To Be Continued...

[OFF]

--

CAPT Lirha Saalm
Commanding Officer
USS Galileo

CWO Cyrus Kiwosk
Security/ Tactical
USS Galileo

Master Chief Petty Officer Markum Quinn
Chief of the Boat
USS Galileo

Lt. Theron Rhodes
Asst. Chief of Security
USS Galileo

Lt JG Dea Mialin
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (JG) Liyar
Diplomatic Officer, SDD/VDF
USS Galileo

Crewman Athlen
Sociologist, SCC
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Evelyn Coleman
2XO/Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Galileo

LTJG Kiri Cho
Asst. Chief Science Officer
USS Galileo

Cmdr Jonathan Holliday
Executive Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (JG) Maenad Panne
Chief Science Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Pola Ni Dhuinn
Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant Scott Parker
Chief Security Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant JG Scarlet Blake
Counsellor
USS Galileo

Lt. jg Amynta Markos
Intelligence Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant JG Andreus Kohl
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Amril
Vorta Defector
USS Galileo

James "Striker" Watt
Engineering Officer
USS Galileo
played by Pylus Anon

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