Vaed'rae

Posted on 03 Feb 2013 @ 12:56am by Raifi Zaren & Crewman Athlen

7,818 words; about a 39 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Deck 2, Mess Hall
Timeline: MD02 1200

[ON]

"Hold on, just calm down."

=^="I can't calm down,"=^= Freya's voice panted through his commbadge. =^="Did you hear what I said? Ferelex is pulling out of water supply to the colony! This isn't- what am I supposed to tell Evios? And Nnoval?"=^= she asked, citing two of Zaren's best Romulan sources on MS 1's surface. Coincidentally, they were also the coordinating liaisons for the new arrivals to the colony. =^="And everyone down there? That we don't care? That all this - trying the get the message out - that this is all we do?"=^=

Zaren carried his tray to the back corner of the mess hall. Why they'd insisted he use a commbadge instead of his normal communications unit that had volume control and privacy settings he couldn't... well. He could see why. But that was beside the point. He couldn't just run back to his room every time one of his contacts called him. Freya was in dire straights. He rubbed a hand over the lower half of his face, thinking.

=^="Zaren! Help me!"=^=

"I'm thinking. Just. Keep your voice down." He brushed his thumb through the security pattern on his PADD and began searching through his contact lists.

=^="I'm going down there."=^=

"And what will that do?" he asked her seriously. "You'll be one more body using water they don't have to spare. No, you're going to stay where you are."

=^="I can bring them water. In the shuttle. I can bring-"=^=

"Enough for maybe one family for maybe a week. Two if they're lucky and the weather shifts. It's not a solution. You're more useful broadcasting from the station."

=^="No one's listening!"=^= Her voice was strident.

"Freya. I'm going to take a breath; you're going to take it with me. In." He listened as she audibly inhaled. "And out." And she exhaled. "People are listening. They know this is happening. And maybe they're not paying enough attention to MS1 in particular, but they're overloaded with... vacuous crap about Parisses Squares and who stole whose PADD at Starfleet Central. And those who care don't know what they can do about it. So we tell them. All right? That's what we do. That's what you do. You're not a rescue worker. You're a reporter."

=^="I'm an assistant who got upgraded to producer because no one else would take your stupid stories anymore."=^=

"Right, but now, you're a reporter." He glanced around the mess hall and, not seeing Jool or Trija in range, shifted a little further back in the corner. "Keep an ear on the target communications broadcast. You're going to have to record a spot-"

=^="Why can't you?"=^=

"Because you're there. And if this works, you're the one who'll have to cover the action. So listen. You're going to have to record a spot, a plea for civilian assistance. You're going to record this in Bolian and Standard and Terran German. So get the translation unit out and write down the pronunciations. Use an earpiece if you have to. You're going to give them the stats. But you want to lead and close with the fact that this is a Federation colony on the verge of collapse."

=^="And that the Romulan refugees are still-"=^=

"No. You're not going to mention them."

Freya made a hacking sound. =^="What??"=^=

"Trust me. It's a Federation colony," he repeated. "There's a drought. Overpopulation. Lack of resources. Power. Water. Women, men, children. Repeat the children as many times as you can. You're going to ask for civilian support - corporate water tanks, replication units, solar paneling, generators, whatever they can spare. More importantly, you're going to ask for the experts that Starfleet promised and didn't come through with. Agriculture, architecture, clean water specialists, engineers, anyone who is willing to donate their time to making the colony a safe and stable place to live."

=^="And what if no one comes forward?"=^=

"They will. And if they don't, you'll keep broadcasting the recordings at regular intervals. I'll pull in some favors to get you a couple primetime slots for it. And I'll call my brothers. They should be able to do some temporary damage control until more resources start coming in. The last statistics I received, they had enough water for another month. Is that still right?"

=^="Three or four weeks, maybe," she said. "There's so many people displaced and coming here-"=^=

"Freya."

=^="Yeah?"=^=

"What are you going to do?"

=^="I'm going to stay on the shuttle at the station and learn how to sound Bolian and German."=^=

"Yes."

=^="And I'm going to write a plea for civilian aid."=^=

"Yes."

=^="And I'm going to send it to you when I'm done."=^=

Zaren sagged a little, "Yes, okay. You're going to do great. I'll keep an eye out."

=^="Zaren?"=^=

"Yeah?"

=^="When they first assigned me to you... I thought they were punishing me. I thought you were crazy."=^=

Zaren winced slightly, "And now?"

She sighed through the commbadge. =^="Now I'm crazy, too."=^=

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then hurriedly tapped a memo to his brothers and his father on Trill, asking one of them to contact him at their earliest convenience. He didn't like involving them in his work when he didn't have to, but desperate times... "You're crazy," he said to himself and picked up his spoon from his tray. "And I'm eating pudding for lunch."

==

"I do not know what you are talking about!" the voice on the other end of the display device shrieked, clapping a hand over her mouth and glaring at Athlen very unhappily.

Athlen poked a spoon into the dish of ice cream in front of him and spoke down into the PADD, collecting the tray and balancing it off to the side as he searched for a table. Over the din of the crowd most of what he said went unnoticed. "You do! Mari. Before I left, you threw him away," he accused, pointing the spoon down at her. "Don't think I can be fooled that easily."

"He was old." The Rigelian woman on the other end admitted it flatly, hand on her hip, with an eyeroll.

"He was distinguished."

"Athlen, he was leaking. Bright pink jira, all over the place. The bed. The chairs. The table. My counter." She pulled off one of the thick gloves on her hands and pushed a dark curl behind her ear. Even through the vidcomm Athlen could tell she had been busy with her paints, she was covered from head to toe in various colors. She gave him a glare.

"I'm very lonely without Zan," Athlen's eyes were innocently wide. "You didn't have to throw him away."

"It is not a him. It is an it. Stop pouting at me. It is done, railth. You are a grown man," she huffed. "Not to be playing with toys. If Vro-rheshan knew about that he would beat you silly. Disgracing Rhias with that Thing." Marivael gave a mock-shudder.

"Zan wasn't a toy! He was -"

"A giant stuffed kreyabh. A hideous, giant, stuffed kreyabh."

"Now you will have to join the ship. So I can hug you and put you on the shelf -"

"We are hanging up now, railth." She smirked. "Farewell," she sang.

Athlen started, but the screen went dark shortly after. He scowled at his ice cream. He would get his revenge, somehow. He realized he had yet to sit down and found one of the few remaining tables with a Trill. Another one. There were just a lot of Trills everywhere. "Hello," he greeted the man warmly and sat down at the joined second table. "Hey, is that pudding?" the Rigelian asked, turning over the PADD in his hand to the newest data the lab was working on with regards to their psionics project.

"Hey," Zaren said, spoon half to his lips, then eyed the Rigelian's plate. "Is that ice cream?" He pointed at his pudding. "Chocolate. Split it with you."

"Deal," Athlen replied, smiling and shifting his bowl over to the other table, moving himself along with it. "You're new here, on the Galileo? I've met or seen most of our newcomers already except for you." He had the same odd sensation as Mialin did, but that was normal for Trills, so he had read.

"I came on at one-eight-five," he dug his spoon into the Rigelian's bowl. "Raifi Zaren. And you're...?"

"Oh," the sociologist said as though it had slipped his mind. "Right, yes. I'm Athlen," he introduced himself with a wave, scooping up some pudding with his unoccupied hand. He dropped the wave to press a few buttons on the PADD, juggling his attention between each task deliberately. He looked up. "So you must have just came off duty, then?" He eyed the man's civilian attire curiously. "Zaren," he mused. Zaren. Why did that sound familiar? He shook his head. He'd been through thousands of video feeds over the past several days, he likely picked it up and got it stuck in his brain for no reason.

"That's a way to put it," Zaren agreed, double dipping the ice-cream filled spoon into the pudding and stuffing the concoction in his mouth. Athlen. He knew the crewlist, names and titles, by heart, "You're the sociologist. You joined the crew when they were landed on Vega. Any first impressions?"

"Hmm," Athlen pondered that for a while. "Kind of jumpy, really," he shrugged. "It is in the air. Lots of tension. It's beginning to fade slowly, but it still lingers around. I think we more or less embody the cliche that is quirky scientist." That was one way to put it. Everybody is insane might have been another. He admitted that bias might have come after Liyar's thirty minute lecture on water purification units. Thirty minutes. In a row. About water. Vulcans.

"Jumpy?" Zaren inquired, tilting his head to the side. Jumpy didn't sound like 'quirky scientist' to him. "Because of any one thing in particular, do you think, or just generally personality-wise?"

Athlen poked his spoon back into the bowl. "Well, there is a combination of both, I think. A lot of the crew are just unusual in general. Like I say, it likely is a product of many hours in space or isolation working on projects, as scientists are prone to. But I get the impression that their last mission was not very good. And that has them on edge," he tried to explain. "More on edge than normal."

"They don't talk about it?"

"No," Athlen shook his head. "It was highly classified. A lot of people are curious though. I know I was. Lots of rumors, but I don't give them much attention. They were attacked by the Borg, discovered a new alien species, traveled through time," Athlen recited with a patient eyeroll. "My superior once thought that it was combat related," he reflected to his ice cream. "Something in the air, some quality of what they were feeling. But then he stopped talking about it altogether." Which was odd. For a few days it was all Liyar talked about, until he just never mentioned it again.

"Your superior being the Chief Science Officer?"

Athlen blinked. "Well, she is, yes." He grinned. "But I mainly work in the support department, with diplomacy. So I spend most of my time with Lieutenant Liyar. What about you?" he returned the question.

"I'm a journali-" he paused, distracted by the chime on his PADD and the face of his brother appearing on the screen; he shook his head, "One second." He tapped the screen, answering the incoming call. "Bele. Isn't it the middle of the night?"

"Your message said it was urgent." Bele looked like an older version of Raifi; same eyes, same cheeks, but smooth and inkless. He wore a taut-shouldered formal tunic with an understated pattern of twists and lines. "Welas and I just returned from the theater. You're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm... somewhere new. Look, you know the deal with MS1-"

"Little brother, tell me you didn't call me to ask me to give money to Romulans."

"I didn't," Zaren assured him. "I called you to ask you to send ships to the Romulans."

"Raifi!"

"They're unsupported. They're running out of water. They're subsisting on food that's far below the sentietarian standard-"

"It's not our problem."

"It's not anyone's problem, apparently, except for theirs and the seven thousand original colonists who are working day and night to try to support a population that far exceeds their own with little to no supplies to speak of. When it's not anyone's problem, it becomes everyone's problem. I wouldn't ask if there was any other way. You know that, Bele. Something's gotta give or these people are going to die. Romulan or not, they're people. Without any place to call home. Sixty-thousand smart, storied individuals dying of starvation and dehydration. I'm not asking you to buy the colony. Just send a few transport ships. Some replicators, water filtration units. Something to tide them through."

Athlen's ears drew back and he looked up. Oh, damn the Four. Damn damn damn damn. He blinked and tilted his head. Romulans. Oh. "You're not here because of -"

Bele studied him darkly, "To tide them through until when?"

"'If Cahil lead the way, others will follow,'" Raifi said. "Isn't that Papa's motto?"

"I'll speak to him about it."

Zaren could have kissed the screen, "Thank you."

"I can't promise anything. You know-"

"This is not -" Athlen chirped in happily, rolling his eyes at his bowl.

"I can only ask that you try."

"And Pilin..."

"Pilin can call me. I've got statistics coming out of every orifice."

"Graphic," Bele commented wryly. "I'll contact you again soon."

Zaren watched the screen wink off. "Sorry about that. Where were we? I'm a journalist with FNN."

"Yes, sort of gathered that," Athlen grouched. He pressed his hand into his head. "So Liyar called you or?" he sighed. Somehow, someway this was going to get him in trouble.

"No," Zaren took a bite of his pudding. "But it's funny you should say that. I would like to talk to him."

"Well -" Athlen blinked upwards and his blue eyes went a little wider. "This is such a bad idea! Liyar! What are you doing?" he blurted out, placing his hand at the bridge of his nose.

The Vulcan in question tilted his head at them both severely and sat down at Athlen's abandoned second table. Either he had heard all that, or he had deduced it somehow, or he had felt it somehow. Either way, he was there, sans tray. "I am not responsible for Mr. Zaren. He is part of a press corps unit which has been assigned to this vessel to document the discovery of the Rojar system."

"And why has nobody told me any of this?" Athlen spoke into his hands forlornly.

Liyar stared at him. "I was going to inform you. I -"

"Got distracted. Again. By water. Vulcans."

"That is an inaccurate definition of a purification unit," Liyar insisted.

"I would just like to point out how much I so don't want to have this conversation again." Athlen quirked one side of his lips up in a wry smile.

Liyar lifted his eyes to the reporter. Journalist. Whatever they called themselves. It was an easy guess to make. "Raifi Zaren," he easily determined.

"Oh -"

"You stated that you wished to speak with me." He got back to the topic at hand, ignoring the greenness of his colleague's face.

"I did. Apparently we have a common interest." Zaren brushed his thumb over his PADD and brought up the details of the situation on MS1. "I've been covering the Romulan refugee relocation to MS1-" He nudged the PADD to the Vulcan. "I read your speech and I've got friends in Miran; Romulans. They seem fairly sure they have you to thank for getting them settled there."

"They do," Liyar responded unapologetically.

"Modest guy," Athlen said under his breath.

"Modesty is irrelevant," Liyar started, resting his chin on his fingertips. "As Mr. Zaren is aware, there are few people willing to speak up publicly about the situation and even fewer willing to act." He took the PADD and began going over the data. MS1... it began blending into numbers in front of him.

"And many of those who do bother to mention it, use the situation as an excuse to manipulate other situations. Not to actually pay any attention to the crisis," Zaren agreed. He was unoffended by Liyar's words. He hadn't had much experience with Vulcans, but he had a very defined appreciation for blunt and direct speech. "So many find themselves blinded by what is happening to them now, they can't see the cost of their current preoccupations. I have a mind to make them pay attention. By any means necessary."

"Agreed. There is also a considerable degree of hostility when it comes toward the past history of Romulus with the Federation and due to the fact that Romulan pirates are beginning to form scout groups. They are too hesitant to blame the Vulcans for this crisis of destabilization and so they are directly blaming the Romulans themselves as a result of their own foolish illogic. I believe Terrans refer to this as 'blaming the victim'. Is this data portable?" he asked, digging through one of the pockets in his jacket.

Athlen gaped. "Liyar, you can't - Oh my god - Stop talking!" he smacked his friend's arm.

"It can be. I'll transfer it to you." Zaren leaned forward, both ignoring Athlen's protest and including him in the conversation, "I hadn't considered the added aspect of territorial destabilization. My working theory was that the Federation and Starfleet's admirals suffered a general apathy towards the fate of a nation that many feel karmically deserve their fate. What drives me mad is that they made promises according to the ideals of their higher selves, saying that they would offer assistance with relocation and aid of Romulan refugees - taking the reins, so to speak - only to stand back and do nothing. So anyone else who might have taken an interest in the work stands back thinking it's all being taken care of. Meanwhile, you've got tens of thousands of people on MS1 shitting in trenches, with three weeks of water, and substandard everything."

Liyar continued analyzing the data in front of him, a shrewd look on his face. Athlen wondered what he had done in a past life to get stuck on a ship full of insane genius weirdos. Another one. Without turning to answer, Liyar pulled out his personal PADD and entered the freeform area, shifting his eyes back and forth between them both and updating the spiel of equations on his own. "They are failing on Miran as well," he muttered under his breath, what passed for a scowl on his features. "Starting fights, killing one another, destroying their own dwellings. They are failing everywhere." He said that like it meant something. "MS1 is not an anomaly. Every single gathering. Even in Miran, where they are being given resources." He looked up. Was that an eye?

"Yeah, but they aren't stupid people," Athlen arched his eyebrow. "Haven't they sort of got a history with this? They know how to do this."

"No, they do not have a history with having billions of their people killed in an instant. Have you never researched Vulcanoid crew relations?"

"Okay, but they're not the type to sit down and cry about it. None of us are," Athlen said pointedly. "Killing people, though. Maybe." Athlen looked thoughtful. "Like we get wars going on and people start freaking out. This is different, though. The Romulans are smart enough to know better. That's kind of their thing, anyway. Fall into order. I mean, we all are. Except us, but that's - whatever." He ate a bit of ice cream. "What about crew relations?"

"No," Liyar agreed. "They are not intentionally breaking down. It is likely they do not know what is happening at all. Neither do the Vulcans. We give them water, food, shelter. Of course, any Vulcan who is capable of putting together more than one logical thought at a time should understand the implications," he grouched in his own way. "Willful ignorance."

"What is what? Happening what?" Athlen heaved a very loud sigh. "Liyar, words, you know, talking. In straight lines."

Liyar fell silent and continued typing.

"He thinks it has something to do with the supernova," Zaren filled in. "That the increase in violent and otherwise disorganized behavior is due to the large-scale psionic reaction to the destruction of their home star and their home planet." He noticed Athlen eyeing him suspiciously and shook his head, "I read a lot, especially on this subject. And I still didn't find out about that research until someone actually mentioned Liyar by name." He took another healthy bite of pudding and nabbed a bit of ice-cream from the Rigelian's bowl casually. "I don't know much about telepathy beyond basic neurotransmitters, but I'd been under the impression that Romulans were psionic-nulls for the most part - or at the very least that their abilities were limited to what most telepathics would consider party-tricks. But the research does have some strong points. That is, until you consider there's no way to study it with a control."

Liyar blinked his own version of a shrug. Athlen stared. Who was this guy? Why did no one ever talk to him? "No. There is not," Liyar said, blankly. "Regardless of their capacity as individuals, the Romulans are not a separate, fully developed species to Vulcans. They have always been part of our Consciousness. Unlike races such as the Mintakans who developed on their own." He devolved into a ramble while he continued working. "Romulans, Rigelians, the extinct Debrune, the Watraii. They are all offshoots. They even experience the same medical concerns." He blinked pointedly at that. As if reminded of something he went back to the medical data research he'd been compiling. "Due to the fact that they are, essentially, low-level, their perception of this would not make an impact. They rarely train in the psionic arts and they do not maintain much discipline. Unless it was severed." He shook his head. "Unless it was abruptly severed, destroyed, they would never have known. There is a reason on nearly every Vulcanoid operated ship it is standard operating procedure to dispose of the dead almost immediately. Romulans have always observed this, since the Exodus. There is strong evidence to suggest that their capacity is far more than racial memory. That in itself is proof. Racial memory does not exist outside of psionics." He inhaled calmly and kept typing. "Nevertheless, there is no absolute proof and therefore such propositions are considered illogical. No additional personnel are being dispensed to deal with the possibility. I have made strides to contact the HTC on Betazed but they are stalling. They do not want to risk it. Have you ever been to a gravity well? Or near a large concentration of suffering?" he looked at Athlen.

"No." Athlen shifted. He really did not enjoy this dreadful talk.

"I do not recommend it. There is a reason why many relief units are comprised of low psi-testers."

"I can imagine that. But what he is saying is basically that whether or not they're messed up over it, there's still a problem on MS1? The Federation isn't doing anything.... They're leaving them there."

"Yes. There is. A large problem. On all sides." He zoned out a little.

It occurred to Athlen that Liyar might have been the Vulcan version of a conspiracy theorist. He palm-faced. "Liyar - the point -"

"Resources, yes. There is still the point at hand. The resources are being wasted unnecessarily. We have a fully capable independent camp on Miran that is practically annihilating itself for no reason. MS1 did not start out how it finished. They were given enough resources to become self-sustaining and they were too chaotic to organize themselves."

"Hold on-" Zaren spoke up, "There was chaos, yes, but that would be the case with any group who's just witnessed the devastation of their race and homeworld. For the refugees, immediate families were kept together, yes, but there are family friends and distant relations who are now separated by multiple sectors when they used to live next door. And this with the Romulans, who traditionally form deep bonds even with their more distant relatives. Add to that emotional trauma and horror, the fact that the first group to be dropped onto MS1 was equal in size to the number of colonists already in residence and there was no starting infrastructure in place for them... You can't say that the situation there is independent of that- it isn't as though they're rioting. They're starving." The Trill looked between the other two men, "You're saying it's actually violent at the other refugee centers?"

"Affirmative," Liyar replied with a nod. "They are not starving on Vulcan. We have fully equipped them with the necessary resources to survive and flourish. They are not. They are completely incapable of sustaining themselves. My brother was just assigned to the protection unit from the V'Ket which has been established."

"Can you go there? I mean, the place in Miran?" Athlen asked with a curious tilt to his head.

"No. I have not been able to get past the first gate. I need to run more tests, find some way -" Liyar glanced down at his wrists briefly. "Some way to dampen it. Regardless of anything, the concern still remains. Your idea to propose the story as Federation-sympathetic is logical." He turned back to Zaren and handed him the PADD he had been typing on moments before. He didn't realize that had bled over from their conversation of earlier and gave the PADD. "Those are all of the additional resources we have sent out since the beginning of -" he glanced off to the side. "September? Is that it?"

"Yep." Athlen smiled.

"September." Odd months. "There is another shipment on the DKR Ran on the way. One from the VSA, two from Shi'kahr, Raal and one from Miran's IEC. It is not making a difference. Even if you do get the Federation involved on a practical level, I do not think it will make any perceivable difference unless the cause is addressed. There is a certain level of distress afforded to people in situations like this, and then there are the ramifications of dealing with a completely destroyed Consciousness. You have kept up on the medical tabs?" He looked over and switched the pages. "Unspecified fever. Unspecified fever. Cardiac arrest. Pain exhaustion. Even in those whose families have survived in complete tact have begun."

"What does that mean?" Athlen asked, leaning over on his hands.

"It means exactly what it sounds like," Liyar said severely.

Athlen's eyes widened. "You - oh my god - now I know why they all keep giving me sympathetic glances - you're just trying to get yourself killed or something, aren't you! This isn't Rigel! How the - how have you even been able to do research like that?"

"Murder is illogical," Liyar responded dryly. "And that," he indicated the reports with a finger, "Is a symptom of massive, full-scale telepathic trauma. These numbers are nearly critical. You think I am the only person to run a test? Whenever there is a natural disaster, Rigel always runs global tests. There is -"

"Yes, there is one being undergone now, I just had my checkup -" Athlen admitted with the ease of a culture who clearly did not at all care about privacy, "But - you're serious? You think they're going through the same thing? Do you know how insane that sounds." Athlen wasn't asking a question.

Liyar ignored him again. "There are also timeline scales of the studies I have been able to run on the Miran settlement from a distance. And authorization for you and your teams to enter if you so choose. We have attempted to limit outside exposure as I mentioned, it is very stressful to them to have the added emotions of outsiders at this time. Only the relief teams are allowed in, but a report might do some good. Connecting Vulcans to Romulans might also be an angle that you can use for your story. Is there anything that you require from me?" Liyar focused his strangely distant gaze on the Trill in front of him.

"If you can get my people in, I'll get the word out," Zaren agreed readily. "I can even get a Betazoid on the ground to run psi-testing while they're there, if you can get him in. And if what you suspect is true- what then? What's the resolution?"

Liyar shook his head again. "We need to assess the survivors. Individually. We need to get them to see Healers, Adepts. People who understand the mind arts, who can help soothe the ruptures that must exist," Liyar said, with a gesture. "On top of this, they need to start establishing themselves again. Pair bonds, in particular, are very important. Most of them are likely grieving and unwilling to take another mate, but it is going to become very necessary, very soon, if these numbers are correct." Liyar sighed, outright, and kept looking at his PADD. "We have had a few of them come 'out' of it, so to speak. Studying these individuals will be useful. If you can find any on MS1 who are stable you will need to examine them also, determine what it is that has made them stable. It will likely be a bond of some kind. My Healer on Vulcan is a Romulan," he said. "I can get you into contact with him as well. He was unbonded at the time and established a relationship with a Vulcan woman shortly after landing on the settlement. This appears to have had a positive effect on his physiology. He has been able to keep up with his duties, although he still suffers from malnutrition and migraines periodically."

Zaren thought about Evios and Nnoval, who were as sane and grounded as two people could be who'd experienced what they had. They'd found each other in the midst of the disorder and bonded through the effort of working together to find solutions for the others. Was that evidence, though, or coincidence? Either way, Liyar was right. Assessments were necessary. He scanned the PADD that had been handed back to him, adding notes on what tests needed to be run. "I would like to get in touch with your Healer, yes." He looked up, "And if you have any contacts who are capable and willing to run psionic testing... I'd like to get in touch with them as well. I can organize transportation, but I'd like to do a wide scale series of assessments on as many of the major relocation centers as I can at once. News travels faster when it spans multiple sectors."

"I will get you through to my contacts at HTC," Liyar nodded, and took his PADD back to type out a few more commands. "As well, there is a monastery in Shannei'kahr. They are on good terms with my people. We may be able to convince them to help us. Thus far my requests for an audience with Kiral-ne have been ignored, but I assume they will be persuaded to see the logic of the situation at your presence." He arched an eyebrow. They did not have the press show up at their front door every day. "This man may be able to get you somewhere further with that." He handed the PADD back with Sekhet's name on it. Sekhet had refused to listen to him earlier, convinced he was in some kind of paranoid delusional episode, but he figured it would not hurt to try again.

Athlen smirked, watching the two of them ramble at eachother. Liyar sounded as excited as he ever got at anything. Granted on a Vulcan it just looked like Really Dull, but amusing, all the same. He snatched another bite of pudding, putting his thinky-face on. As a crewman on a starship he knew he didn't have any real power. As a representative of thrash-Rhias of the Southern Hemisphere on the otherhand... he had a specific audience with the Rigelian Consulate. Could that be useful? They had gotten in a snit over the Brig Incident... "I don't know how much use I can be, but if there's anything I can do to help, I'd like to. So would all of Rigel," he amended with a curt nod. "I don't know if they are involved in anything, but Rigel V is very familiar with testing for this kind of thing, on a physical level, due to our planetary requirements, and we're used to dispatching. Rigel's medical facilities are pretty top notch, I mean, surely they could send people there? I mean, I know there's Rigelians on the frontlines already, but I doubt they know about this. They have tools and equipment even the Vulcans don't have. Maybe I could get Councilor Aylin to you? He is one of my superiors on Rigel. Have you guys ever thought about like, forming some kind of team, to really plan something out? Like of doctors. Scientists. Why wait for the Federation to do it? If you can get this covered and get people interested in it..." he sighed, remembering Maenad and Liyar's never-ending arguments on resources and post-scarcity. Something like this. You'd really think they'd be beyond it. He gave a sad little sigh.

Zaren thought of what he'd just said to Freya. They were journalists. Reporters. Not activists. They were there to speak the truth, to remind people of their more enlightened and compassionate selves, and to demand that they act on their highest standard. But then again, he thought. How could they stand on the sides and speak those truths without allowing them to resonate within themselves as well? He had connections all over the Federation on many levels. And he had a voice that people heard, even if they tried to dismiss it. Hell, even Jool Fenta was talking about the Romulan situation peripherally. "Yes," he said, weight in his voice, "it must be done and action is the only way forward from this point." He looked between them both. "We need to consolidate our contact points, figure out how far our reach extends. I can reach out to journalists sectors across the Federation; if there are interviews to be had, particularly with experts who rarely are heard from, they'll come from the corners even if they've been avoiding the subject up until now. So. A list. Specialists. Assessment. Interviews. And then a mass public campaign once a set of possible solutions have been reached by consortium." Strange how easy it was to fall back into resistance organization mentality, but there it was.

"Resistance what?" Liyar asked offhand, leaning over to input something at the replicator unit. A bowl of steaming purple noodles materialized in front of him. He started at them with his chopsticks, stare fading into the distance as his brain started popping up various ideas. There was a black, misty spot on the edge of his consciousness and he blasted it mentally, turning a wind on it and throwing it out of his shield. Not now. Objectives. He stared at his soup as though it were a crystal ball, with answers floating in it rather than noodles. "I will give you a list as soon as I can of anyone on Vulcan I can find."

"I'll see what I can do. Maybe Aylin knows people. My clan is huge and widely dispersed but I mean... maybe there is someone, it's big enough. And if there is then they will at least listen to me, even if they hang up the next second." Rigelians. Clannishness was useful for many things. "Vro might be helpful, but, maybe not. They are not as Federation sympathetic." And there was the fact that he threatened to go to war with people at least ten times every day. "But that might be useful too. If I say the Federation is not dealing with it, they will listen up."

Zaren nodded gravely. "Good. Then we have a plan." He spooned pudding and slurped. Spooned ice cream and slurped. Returned to the pudding. "Oh, you asked - I helped to organize parts of the Bajoran rebellion. Well. Arjin did. And Selik played a part in the original structures that allowed for it to succeed. Supply lines, information, medical training, smuggling..." he shrugged. "Resistance," he concluded. "No matter how evolved we think we are, there always seems to be a need for it."

Liyar closed his eyes, for no apparent reason, and then opened them abruptly. What an odd sensation. Life within another life. It was strange and electric. He thought he could see blue sparkling through the black. Blue and white. He leaned forward unconsciously, balancing his chin on his fingertips over his soup, chopsticks still in hand. Odd, but definitely intriguing.

"What?" Athlen asked between them. "Who - why resistance? What?" He'd done it. Again. He'd gotten involved in the lives of crazy people. Didn't they call that enabling?

"We do not get resistance organizations on Vulcan," Liyar responded. He could hardly imagine the concept. The closest would be the V'tosh ka'tur. Insane people. But they were not a threat. Not really. They mostly wanted to be left alone, and largely, they were. He could understand the necessity of the Bajorans, nevertheless. Most Vulcans would have said that violence, resistance, was illogical. Liyar thought that was extremely naive, and hypocritical. He ate a noodle.

"He asked," Zaren explained to Athlen with a shrug. "One would hope," he said, glancing at Liyar, "that a culture built around the ideals of logic would be able to debate peacefully without needing to resort to large scale movements."

"Hope is an emotion," Liyar replied blandly. Truthfully, he did not think that was the case. Oh, one could have many scientific debates and philosophical and moral and ethical debates until they all evolved into the next sentient form of life. But when one really differed from the norm, they were exiled. Ostracized. Sent out to fend for themselves in the desert. There could be no other way.

"I happen to be a particular fan of emotions," Zaren said, lifting his spoon. "I mean, beyond the fact that they're a biological impulse. Well. They're an interpretation of a neurological impulse, but either way, whatever you call it, they're in all of us. Pride. Shame. Hope. Despair. Togetherness. Aloneness. They're all feelings. And some of them are just plain fun."

Athlen snorted behind his hand. "That's his unimpressed Dr. Evil face," he smirked at Liyar and rose his pinky to his lip.

"Crewman Athlen. How many times must you be informed that I am not evil?" Liyar asked sternly.

"Oh. Vulcans. We have no feelings and we are very peaceful, but let us take the time to remind you in tedious detail of how very evil we all were. Have you seen our last war? Did you see all that blood? Vulcan doesn't even have water, we just have rivers of bloooooooo-"

"Crewman," Liyar interrupted impatiently. "We are not evil."

"I didn't say you were. Now who is Dr. Evil?" Zaren queried, looking between them.

Athlen felt like his grin might become permanent and ended up laughing quietly to himself. He gestured to the PADD in Zaren's hand. "He's a person from an old Terran movie. They're kind of odd, but amusing."

"For a person with the comportment of a three year old child," Liyar offered from his bowl.

"He likes me," Athlen interpreted cheerfully.

"Embracing your inner child has its benefits," Zaren chuckled. "Terran movies," he muttered then shook his head. "I'm not connected to the LCARS," he explained setting the PADD aside. "Security protocols. But I'll look forward to learning more about them." He scraped his bowl for the last of the pudding.

Liyar stood, grasping his tray as he did. He glanced downward at Zaren's PADD as well. "You will have your list shortly. Crewman." He nodded at them once and then strode away to the reclamator and out the door.

Athlen waved goodbye. "Hmm. Maybe I could show you them in a lab sometime, with a projector. Although I am not an officer, so, you would have to get someone to bring you, I imagine." He shook his head, replaying the entire conversation in his head. "Vrian mas. I can't even begin. What kind of drugs are they feeding that man..." he mumbled under his breath and surged to collect the remaining speck of ice cream.

Tarinol and Lexorin, Zaren thought, but just shook his head. "Vrian mas?"

"Oh! Eh," Athlen started. "I do not know what the Romulans call it, the mating drive. That is the Rigelian term. What he's talking about, it would just be really bad. It's happened a couple of times on my planet. When you get groups of Vulcanoids experiencing major psychic trauma, that backlash can cause the brain to react like that. I mean, we react like that on a smaller level anyway, just, smaller. This is overkill. When Krifal city in Yvrad was overtaken in a massive wave of seismic activity the survivors had it. Most of the inhabitants died, the city was buried. I don't know if you would have heard of that. It is probably the only recent occurrence of it happening. Every Rigelian over the age of twenty had to go to a medical station and get checked out. There was one Vulcan who lived in the city at the time who was also affected, so... That makes me think, what he was saying, about that Consciousness... Now there is this..." he sighed. "Bad news." He didn't miss the pun.

"I heard about the death toll," the Trill said solemnly. "But there wasn't any mention in the report I read about any kind of... group consciousness reaction. You're saying a trauma to a Vulcanoid can induce a sort of... instant pon farr?"

Athlen shrugged. "Sort of. It is really rare, but it has happened. Often enough that we have planetary protocols for it. The reach is usually contained, but we have learned to be careful when it does happen. Vulcans I don't think have ever had an outpouring like that, or else you would have heard about it. Rigel V is fairly tame in comparison to both Romulans and Vulcans. We won't kill, or go truly insane, even in the worst of it. But if the Romulans are going through that, then... no wonder they are so chaotic. It would not be, I don't think, a true representation. More like a low-level, prompt. As if to say, you need to reconnect. You need to bond. You need to do it, you have to do it. But it is not, plak tow," he shook his head. "It is not, instant-death, instant-insanity, shriek and freak out. But it must be going on two years now. Things are going to start getting critical. There have been severe outbreaks in violence from what this says, look at this..." Athlen blinked down and slid the PADD over closer to read the figures. "Ninety injuries in a single day, on a single settlement. Fighting and mobs."

"Occurrences that might easily be explained by sheer frustration at the way in which they're being treated," Zaren said, though he'd seen the rising violence in the other camps as well. Why, he wondered, had MS1 avoided that so far? Could it actually have been because they had no option but to focus on survival? No time for their consciousness to open to other ideas?

Athlen nodded. "And the trauma from losing most of your species has got to be tough to handle, too," he pointed out.

"We need data, not supposition, if this is going to work. And circumstantial observations won't cut it. Not with the detail-oriented Admirals and not with the currency-counting civilians we'll need to support the relief effort if this is the case." He rubbed his jaw, "I've got some calls to make. But... thank you for the company. And the ice cream. And..." he lifted the PADD. "Let me know what you find out from your clan, yes?"

"I will let you know," Athlen agreed. "Oh. This stuff is off the record, right? I mean, um, I'm all right to talk about it, on the record, but... I don't think people would appreciate listening to me yammer on in the mess hall." He smiled sheepishly. That had been foolish, not to recognize Zaren. Assume he was a crewmember. He sighed internally.

Zaren smiled. "I'll let you know when we're on the record. I like to make sure that, when I quote someone, they're happy to stand by that quote." He winked at Athlen, "Not all of us are like that though, so. I'd say if you see a woman in leather coming at you with a bunch of questions, just... be circumspect. 'No comment' is always useful."

"...Woman... in leather?"

"One of Jool's favorite textures. Like a second skin. You'll see her. She's... not an officer. Just... you'll be able to tell," Zaren assured him.

The Rigelian shook his head. "I will keep that in mind. What a day..." he said to himself. "Take care," he waved in farewell to the Trill.

"And you. I'll see you soon."

[OFF]

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

Crewman Athlen
Sociologist, SSC
USS Galileo
(PNPC Liyar)

Raifi Zaren
FNN Journalist
USS Galileo
(pNPC Lilou Peers)

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