Neglected Space

Posted on 31 Mar 2013 @ 1:07pm by Verity Thorne

3,748 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Lounge
Timeline: MD2 1230 Hours

ON:

He needed space. Space to work. These laboratories were too small. Too contained. Why was it never big enough? The only place he'd ever truly felt like he could extend and stretch himself fully had been during his time in the Sas-a-Shar desert. Endless, miles of nothing. Perfect. He wished he could go on a hike, but he was trapped on a starship with empty, fake air and fake walls and fake holodecks. How couldn't they feel it? He stalked down the halls, head buried in his PADD. There was nothing left to do now but walk. He didn't even know where he was going until he pushed open another door and entered into the usually-empty lounge -

No, no -

But it was too late. He paused, captivated by the window while the white fuzz of space trilled around them cocooning them in their little warp bubble, streaking by in stars. Each of the stars had numbers on them. Maybe if he used the space he could condense it... but it never wanted to condense. It wanted to expand, reach out with mental fingers and settle into hugging the universe. He shook his head to himself, sparing a glance at the wall. Tarinol was overdue, he noted. But he couldn't worry about that now. It was imperative that he analyze the data Zaren had given him, make the connections, find the discrepancies. He placed his hand on the sphere in his pocket and inched closer to the window, lost in a haze of thought. He missed, or maybe ignored entirely, the petty officer sitting near the back.

Verity lifted his head up from his book as he heard the entrance of someone else. He took a hurried sip of his coffee before setting it down, smiling at the sight of another crew member. "Good morning," he called across to him. With only the two of them there, it would have been rude not to, if nothing else. But Verity wasn't exactly shy in mixing with the crew anyway. "Well, afternoon is it now? I always find it hard to keep track without sunlight."

It took Liyar several moments to realize that someone was talking to him. He turned around and stared intently. "The time is currently twelve thirty three and fifteen seconds," he informed the person. People. People everywhere. In the ceilings, in the closets, in the replicators, in the cupboards and under the bed. Liyar abruptly leaned away and looked back to the window. Sunlight, crew-person had said. Sunlight. Stars were massive, massive things. So much energy. A core. Something to focus on. A meditation touchstone. Once he had taken a trip to the Kalahari desert, in Africa, during his stay at the Vulcan Embassy on Terra. He did not like Terra. It was wet and people were mean and freakishly expressive. But he had been able to focus for the first time in months, by himself, the bright rays of sunlight hammering through the alien blue sky. "Good afternoon." He added it on absently, his cadence stilted as always when trying to deliver the common politic phrases.

Verity watched with mild surprise at the words and the pause, but he smiled good naturedly, arching an eyebrow at him. "Twelve thirty-three, of course," he nodded slowly, his lips pursing slightly with humour. If the tips of his ears and eyebrows, and the hue of skin hadn't of given away Liyar's heritage, his way of speaking would have. "It's beautiful out there, isn't it," he said softly at seeing how he looked at the view. "It's worth coming in here for the view alone, it's always the best. Well, for crew like me who don't get to the bridge, at least."

Now the man was talking again. Commenting on the view. No, nope, this was a distraction. He could not afford to be distracted. He pulled the sphere out from his pocket and keyed it to project low, allowing it to float in front of him so he could begin working. Short talk. No. Small talk. He thought while he pressed a hand against the hologrid and began writing out what was in his mind. Fascinating exercise. Pointless discussions about nothing in order for others to familiarize themselves, to decrease hostility. His supposition that these actions replaced telepathy was looking more and more likely, but he was decidedly inadequate at it. Liyar gazed expressionlessly at the passing space backdropping the hologrid in front of him and nodded. "Yes," he replied. Not very thrilled but at least it was an attempt. "What is your function aboard this vessel," he stated/asked while he worked.

Function, Verity couldn't help but laugh silently to himself at the choice of word. Function. Made him sound like a spare part. Perhaps he was. "I'm the Chaplain," he replied with a small smile, watching him and the hologrid with open curiosity. He'd not seen one before. "And yourself? Purple, that must be...Diplomatic?" he said, and couldn't quite help the note of surprise in his voice.

Liyar blinked his own version of surprise. "Chaplain. That is a religious denominator." He hadn't been able to gather an overmuch interpretation of Terrans on first glance, or even Starfleet in general, but one thing that had been made abundantly clear to him was that most people regarded spirituality with skepticism, apathy or outright disdain. It was the same shift he'd experienced when he'd moved to Shi'kahr, like someone had turned off the gravity. All of a sudden everything that had been relatively familiar to him, was long dismissed by others as backwards. Interesting how a science vessel would employ such an individual. He decided to keep drawing out his equations. "I am the diplomatic officer aboard, yes."

Verity was musing his own surprise. That someone whose culture was to keep emotions buried so deep would seek a job that had him mediate in other people's conflicts, very often emotion driven when rendered down to the basic argument. "What are you doing?" he asked softly, with genuine curiosity as he watched him work. He didn't understand what he was doing, but it wasn't something he would expect from a diplomatic officer.

The Vulcan tracked his eyes back and forth across the hologrid. "Resource allocation identification. MS1 was more than sufficiently prepared for this," he muttered, pulling out the screen into a three dimensional display. "Population statistics. Criminal statistics. Conflicts can be emotionally based, however that is not my primary role." He said it distantly, not realizing it had been thought rather than spoken. He wasn't good at conflict resolution, particularly when it involved someone emotional. The situation with Sienna had proven that, but at least he did get through. That was something, right? He would learn, he would have to learn. But he was good at this. Numbers, estimates, planning. He could do this. Zaren's information was solid. In the right-hand corner of the grid he started forming a timeline in Vulcan characters.

"Wow," Verity took a deep breath as he watched the man and the work with awe, pulling the display and behaviour together. "Am - am I witnessing someone who has managed to turn diplomacy into a science? Equations to work out the problems of people?" he said softly. It was something that interested him a lot, being a people person in his job.

"Diplomacy has always been a science," Liyar said, eyebrows drawing together as he worked. He did not understand this person's train of thought. "Most things are," he added absently. "2.731 billion t'chak," he quickly calculated the export values, deducing them from the last trade stall. In the past two years. Only. "For instance, we deduce through export value that MS1 has not seen any reasonable profit margin since its inception. They are losing in excess of 2.3 billion t'chak, the Romulan currency, per day. From this we gather then that the Romulans are not only struggling, but in severe debt." He pulled the screen out further and nodded. Yes. Most certainly, if the drop-offs spoke for themselves. They spoke to him, at least. "As they are Romulans, they find this an insult to mnhei'sahe, their honor. Scouts, pirates, scavengers, kill-teams, all common." He looked up, out the window. "Common here, even. Vengeful specters, with their only motivation rage and humiliation."

"So you not only deal with the fall out and consequences of things gone wrong, you are trying to predict and preempt them," Verity smiled with appreciation of what a huge task it had to be. "Prevention is better than cure, as they say."

Liyar nodded. "That is the essential process." He drew out the last few characters of his timeline. He pulled out the colony map, which had several areas highlighted in green, which the Vulcan began studying meticulously.

"So, how do you factor emotional reactions in?" he asked softly, tilting his head as he watched his work with interest. "Impulsiveness, compassion, endurance, hope, cold calculation, or is this all just a rough guide?"

"If I insult you, what is your initial, instinctive reaction?" Liyar asked, breaking away from his calculations to stare at the chaplain. "Most individuals will say that they would be angry, or offended. It is the same with probabilities and estimates. There is a likely response to every scenario. It may not be the one which occurs, but it is a reference point, a notation. As such, yes, it would be considered a guide."

Verity nodded with understanding. "But helpful nonetheless," he said thoughtfully. "And much better than starting from a blank canvas. For the record, I would likely be amused."

"Yes. Unfortunately, this is looking less like prediction and more like fact." Liyar overlaid the criminal statistics, and council statistics, which were heavily in the green zone, a negative indicator to Vulcanoid races. "Romulan pirates have been spotted in this region of space as well. I do not believe they will be pleased to have yet another cache of resources become unavailable." Stone was worried about the Borg of all things. The Romulans were, in his opinion, the real trouble. With nothing to lose, and everything to gain, the resonating psionic waves fueling them further into chaos, Liyar knew the situation was going to devolve. They hadn't heard much even after MS1 was established. It was as if the Romulans had dropped off of the radar. But they hadn't. And fairly soon, Liyar reckoned everyone would be aware of it. The killing, rampaging, piracy and internal violence would spill outward. He drew a long line from one end of the grid to the other, eyes narrowed on the information in front of him.

Verity got up and moved to him with a frown, watching the patch of green with dark blue eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "Romulans could be ruthless as a race, before their misfortune, in seeking more power and glory. Lord knows what people like that are truly capable if they're no longer fighting for things they simply want, and instead have to fight for what they need to survive."

The Romulans had, in his opinion, always fought for what they viewed as survival. But everything else the chaplain had said was true, and he nodded. "A great many things," he answered simply. "As are we all. I am unfamiliar with the terminology 'Lord' in the context which you have used it," he mumbled offhand, continuing to enter data as he went along, "Therefore I do not know if this individual would know." Liyar tilted his head.

"Sorry," Verity chuckled softly at that, shaking his head as he watched him rather than his work. "'Lord' is a title for a God. So saying 'Lord knows' is really saying 'Lord only knows' and that no one else does. Sort of - er - like saying 'who knows?'" it wasn't too often he had to explain phrasing and language, but the way Liyar had replied had been naively amusing in how he had expressed it.

"Lord is your religious signifier," Liyar said, arching an eyebrow.

"Some of us call Him that at least. Or more often 'The Lord'," Verity tried to explain but chuckled, shaking his head. "God, simply put, is more common. Of course, that's just one Earth religion. And it can all get very complicated and interwoven."

"On Vulcan, what you speak of is called Aikon. However, belief in such is quite rare," Liyar replied curiously.

Verity chuckled softly at that. Yes, that was certainly true on Earth as well. And most placed he'd been. Belief in general was sometimes a rarity, in anything. "I suppose that's why we call it Faith, because you have to believe despite doubt."

"Your God, you refer to it as Him. It is a sentient being. What constitutes God?" he asked after a while, while his brain worked on the problem in front of him in the background. His curiosity had been piqued, and more than logic and reason, Vulcans were curious. "What makes God different than, for example, an individual from the Q Continuum?"

"I can only answer from my own beliefs," Verity shook his head, taking a breath as he thought it through, not wanting to offer an half hearted answer to what was a huge question. It was strange, he had thought he'd left those kind of questions behind when he'd left the Priesthood, but he didn't mind curiosity. "For me? He's a Father. I consider him to be my Father, our Father, however you wish to put it. Omnipotence, all powerful, that is almost a distraction to the point of his being a creator."

"You do not consider your father to be biological?" Liyar asked, piecing together the metaphor in his mind. "Or you refer to this guidance as paternal? Does it replace your biological parent?"

Verity glanced down for a long moment, to hide the bitterness in his eyes. In all honesty, things had been so bad with his own father that perhaps he had pushed him out of his mind and heart and searched for something else instead. "I suppose I mean in the sense of a creator. I believe He created this, and us. That He loves us, wants us to do well, but as most parents, has to step back and allow us to make our own mistakes, to grow and thrive. To me, that is a father. But I would be misguiding you if I let you believe it's a common view," he gave a half, knowing smile at that. "My beliefs are somewhat old fashioned these days."

"I did not intend to damage you. Your God, he is a Terran?" He supposed that was reasonable, although the mythology of his own race was far different. Yes, there were some Vulcans, but the majority of figures were not Vulcan figures at all.

"The belief originates from Earth, yes," Verity smiled to him with interest. He was curious about what the other man believed in. But he always had to resist that question. It wasn't really done to ask outright, not as a chaplain, not when others might feel it was him being pushy around religion. "You must have remarkable discipline and intelligence," he said softly with awe at watching him work. "This is - beyond me."

Liyar studied the numbers in front of him. "It is an economic calculation called a cost-benefit analysis," the Vulcan explained. He drew his hand down two lines on the graph. "That is the price of goods. This is the quantity." He went diagonally, creating an X in the space. "That is the marginal cost. That is the marginal benefit. This is security and risk reduction, the feasible region and the level of satisfaction." Most of MS1's displays were in a poor state. "Water, power, capital expenditure, net supply, power cost, water cost, food, off-grid supply," he described the other graph. "They are fairly simple computations. You fear you are being pushy regarding religion. I do not comprehend that statement. Explain."

Verity blinked with surprise at the question. At it having been taken from his head and not what he'd said. He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to telepathy. "Well, I'm a chaplain, and we're supposed to be open to all support, whatever people want to talk about, need to share or think through, not just religious and spiritual matters. I suppose my asking directly about your faith could make you uncomfortable. And it could give the wrong impression of the chaplaincy. I'm just very curious," he laughed softly, looking down.

"Vulcans are not predisposed to faith," Liyar said. "It is considered impractical. Unintelligent." But that wasn't what the chaplain asked. He continued outlining the cost of goods on the chart in front of him. "Where I am from, that is not necessarily the case. Shion. What they call A'Tha, Arivne."

"A'Tha, the connection with the creator, Arivne, the connection between all things. Balance," Verity said softly, nodding as he watched him, smiling gently. "I can see the appeal to logical people," he nodded, chuckling. It was strange though, he'd always seen a similarity in such beliefs with paganism and Wicca. "It makes a lot of sense."

"A'Tha. We call it Shion. It does not pertain to a creator as you know it," Liyar shook his head. He believed that the concept of a creator was irrelevant. Q, the Preservers, Sargon, God. There was no difference. Who had created them, if someone had at all, was never the question for him. They were there. Where would they go? Why? Why was it important? Why did they go on? What was their purpose now? Those were questions that didn't sleep. "Shion is within us. K'war'ma'khon, immanence." He filled in one of the blocks on his graph. "I do not understand this word. Paganism."

Verity chuckled, looking down for a long moment as he took a breath. "Do you always read other people's minds?" he asked softly, but no ill will or bad feeling. It was just - disconcerting.

Immediately Liyar's eyes broke away from the hologrid to look at his wrists where silver and black bracelets rested against the bone. "No. No, I should not do that. I am defective. My apologies."

"Defective?" Verity said with surprise at the harsh language. He watched him with concern, shaking his head as he stepped closer to him. He didn't like the idea of anyone thinking of themselves as defective. "That's an extreme word to use," he said softly, more of a question.

Ears drawn back under his hair, Liyar's eyes darted between the various numbers now in front of him. So many numbers. All leading to the same damnable conclusion. Entropy. Madness. They shuffled over one another, blurring sets of information, zoomed, cropped, mirrored. Panning inward, outward, left and right. He looked far away. "It was not my intention to violate your privacy."

"I know," Verity said softly, reaching out to him with concern, his hand nearing his arm but not actually touching, not wanting to invade his personal space. "And you're not defective."

Liyar's fingers were flexed out in front of him, hesitating over the display, bending backwards at odd angles. "You take issue with my semantics," he said, wrinkling his nose. The fingers curled forward and touched the final grid, carefully creating new characters in the margins.

"In my experience, Vulcans are very particular about the words they use. And mean them," Verity said quietly, shaking his head with a frown. "I do not like the idea of you thinking of yourself as defective."

"You are implying emotional context," Liyar finally figured out. Was there emotional context to being broken? Vulcans did not break. He would never know the answer. "It is merely that my telepathic abilities do not function as they are meant to," he replied, with no hint to his internal machinations.

"Just makes you different," Verity gave a small smile, shaking his head to him. "Not defective. And everyone of us different. It's the way of life," he chuckled, glancing down. "I should know. I have met so many people, and each of them has been - different."

"You are correct," Liyar said, unable to disagree. For him it was not as simple. "What is it you are called?"

Verity shook his head, taking a sharp breath of surprise. "My apologies, that's so rude of me. We've been talking all this time and I haven't introduced myself. I am Verity. Verity Thorne. And I have a chaplaincy office, if you ever want to visit."

"I am Liyar," the Vulcan introduced himself, eyes on the hologrid. 100btck -log(1-rFV/PMT)/log(1+r), r2=[(1+r1/n2) n1/n1_1]n2... he finalized the last payment number and switched the panels.

Verity gave a small smile as he watched the work, still amazed at the complexity of it. And amazed and saddened that a man who could do something so brilliant could think of himself as defective. "I should leave you to it, Liyar. I'm disturbing your work. I hope we can talk again though?"

Distracted, Liyar barely blinked, reality was a swirl in the sky. He spoke distantly. "Yes. If you wish. Goodbye, Mr. Thorne."

Verity watched him silently for a long moment, unsure for a moment. He let out a soft breath, touching his sleeve, but not his actual arm, gently. "Don't be a stranger," he said softly, smiling warmly to him before moving away to leave him to some peace.

Liyar's fingers extended again at the contact. He blinked a few times in a row. Stranger? Stranger to what? But he never got to ask his question. By the time he pulled himself out of the numbers, Verity had left.

OFF:

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

PO2 Verity Thorne
Chaplain
USS Galileo

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