Like Minds

Posted on Tue Jul 26th, 2022 @ 9:55am by Jerant van Rijn & Ensign Ziahli Lorel

Mission: Character Development
Location: Mess hall
3351 words - 6.7 OF Standard Post Measure

"Okay, someone here knows their tea."

Every breakfast started with tea. Up until her time at the Academy, Zia had strongly favoured juices when it came to her first beverage of the day, along with the coldest water she could get her hands on. Earth, with its copious varieties of breakfast blends, had not taken long to fully convert the Betazoid to the point where she genuinely suffered if she was forced to confront the day without a fresh pot. She had been delighted to discover, therefore, that Athena's messhall displayed regularly-updated suggestions for replicator codes to allow the crew to share recommendations. The mystery of it all had appealed to her most, but she'd been pleasantly surprised to find that the hibiscus tea actually tasted like someone knew how long those leaves needed before you could experience them at their best.

Both hands cupped around her glass mug, Zia returned to where the member of the morning rotation was preparing her order of pancakes and peered at the monstrous mound of fruit, whipped cream and syrup that matched exactly what she'd asked for. She grinned, accepted the tray, and sighed in contentment. "I am definitely going to have to locate the gym today. All right, you were right about the recommendation board, you were definitely right about the pancakes, now tell me..."

She turned, balancing her breakfast carefully, to gaze over the mixture of empty and occupied tables.

"...who do I pester first?"

To her amusement, it took the server a moment to respond. In the time it took the young crewman to stutter over a very non-committal suggestion, Zia had already made a beeline for one of the smaller tables, closest to the viewport, because those were typically her favourite seats. And because the table's sole occupant was about the most placid temperament in the room, psionically speaking.

"Is this seat taken?"

Tea in one hand, ridiculous pancake mountain in the other, Zia smiled warmly to soften the impact of her intrusion and was quick to reassure, "Everyone else has an eating buddy, you look kind of lonely over here by yourself."

Jerant looked up at the bundle of energy that approached and smiled, getting up to reach for the plate just in case. "It's not taken," he said, gesturing for her to sit while still ready to catch the precariously stacked plate. "I guess I am a little lonely this morning," he smiled. "I'm Jerant.."

"I am..."

The Betazoid paused, watching a berry roll halfway down the stack and lodge itself into a dollop of whip cream.

"...honestly concerned I'm going to regret eating all of this." Setting down her tea, Zia slipped into the seat and reached for a set of cutlery, unwinding the napkin to set it to one side. Taking up the fork, she dug into the bottom pancake and dragged it through the puddle of syrup before lifting it to her grinning lips. "Not going to stop me though."

Partway through chewing, it occurred to Zia that she'd allowed herself to be distracted. A flurried hand gesture attempted to act as impetus for her to speed up chewing to allow her to swallow and add, "Sorry; Zia. I'm kind of a mess before breakfast."

"So I see," the other Betazoid smiled, "nothing wrong with that is there? That just seems an awfully large breakfast.... do you always eat this much at this time? I don't think I would be able to." He smirked, patting his flat stomach. "I got a figure to watch." It seemed a little vain to point out but he did take pride in his body.

"This is just a snack."

It wasn't but the intimation that she could pack away a decent meal wasn't much of an elaboration. Where she put it was anyone's guess; outwardly, Ziahli looked like she skipped meals rather than doubling-up on them.

His eyes widened in surprise, clearly not sensing her train of thought on the matter. "Just a snack?" He echoed, "if that's a snack dare I ask what a proper meal is to you?"

"That depends on how big the tub of ice cream is." Grinning around her next mouthful, Zia took the moment of chewing to reflect properly on a response. "To be fair, I don't overindulge all that often. I'd rather not develop cholesterol issues before I turn 30. This is just a special occasion." She skewered a berry and smirked. "Any time someone else wants to cook me pancakes is a special occasion in my books."

"And what is the special occasion?" He sipped his tea as he watched her eat, "who made the pancakes? I mean, they're replicated right?" A frown creased his brow despite the friendly smile on his face. Despite his best efforts he just wasn't getting a read on her. Not even a sliver of a feeling right now.

"Oh, some guy up the front, one of the kitchen staff. Maybe he was a janitor?" The more she thought about it, the more Zia realised she'd just kind of assumed the crewman worked in the messhall. Circumspection dominated her expression for a moment before, eyebrows raised, she looked back to where the young man had been and hesitated when she couldn't see him. Her gaze dropped to her plate.

"I think I just made some random guy trying to get his own breakfast make mine."

"Clever... I wish I had that ability. But pancakes for breakfast has never been a thing in my family...we tended to have bread or cereal. Now dessert, that was always something else. Mom always made this huge chocolate cake on Sunday and my sisters and a could never wait until it was Sunday." The very thought made his mouth water. "She always used the best Belgian chocolate..." He smiled at the fond memory of the entire family at the dinner table waiting for mother to present her baking.

"See, I prefer to see dessert as more of a genre of food than a specific mealtime." The pile of sugar on her plate almost rendered this statement entirely unnecessary. Though she hadn't stopped eating, Zia had yet to make a noticeable dent, and her efforts were unlikely to be aided by the niggle of distraction that was difficult to place a finger on. Jerant was pleasant enough, welcoming even, but he was... She'd approached him because she'd sensed a pocket of calmness amidst the bustle of the breakfast shift. Now that she was sitting across from him, it was a little more oppressive than that.

Curiosity narrowed her eyes, the sparkle of inquisitive confusion never likely to be something Zia tried to hide from others. She could sense him but, whilst the smattering of psionic pings were decipherable enough to appear authentic, there was a lack of resonance she couldn't account for. Whether they knew it or not, even non-telepaths were capable of registering low psionic frequencies. It never translated into cohesive awareness but it resembled a sort of mental static, the emotional equivalent of physical proximity's capacity to make hair stand on end. Her own energy, outwardly projected as was her natural personality, normally evoked enough psionic reverb that Zia noticed when others noticed her.

Jerant reflected nothing.

"So," she tried conversationally, in an attempt not to pry too directly, "what do you do on board anyway?"

"Primarily, I'm the chief counselor's assistant but when he has no need of me, I'm a civilian linguist." He could see that something frustrated her, years of dealing with an impaired person had taught him that, but what, he had no idea. "What about you?" He asked, making no effort to hide his inability to read another Betazoid beyond what was physically displayed.

"Well," Zia explained, navigating a mouthful of food. "I'm primarily assigned to security as part of the regular duty roster but they're letting me take half my shifts in the brig." She paused, considering how that sounded. "Well, not actually in the brig."

"I figured," Jerant chuckled as he took another sip of his tea. "Kind of like me being allowed to help with linguistical puzzles when the counselor doesn't need me. And he doesn't when he's got patients unless absolutely necessary. He usually needs me on away missions and bridge duty. And briefings, obviously. So I guess I got a lot of time on my hands to make myself otherwise useful. What do you do in your spare time?"

"Depends what's on offer." Zia saturated another morsel in syrup as she contemplated a better response. "I kind of like finding what other people are into and tagging along. I started horse riding that way, which is something I still try to do when I can. There's been a few hit and misses; spelunking wasn't really my thing."

"Hmmm then I suppose free running isn't for you? Though on the ship the holodeck is somewhat of a requirement for that. Not much you can do across the ship... I do like to go for a run at every opportunity when we visit a planet. Assuming it's safe for a civvie to go, of course. And whether Savin doesn't need me."

"Free running?" Given her propensity to just dive into whatever was on offer, Zia often lost track of the actual names of the activities she took part in. "That doesn't sound like anything too bad. Cave diving just turned out to be a lot of darkness and really creepy places. Some breath-taking ones," she conceded, "But still." Reaching for her tea, the Betazoid took a sip. "In retrospect, the problem was probably the mixture of cave diving and horror story fixation." She picked up her fork again. "I didn't date that guy for very long."

"Parkour," he explained, "climbing and jumping across obstacles, such as buildings. What do you mean horror story fixation?" Reaching, he picked up his sandwich which consisted of just two slices of bread, butter and sliced cheese.

Zia shrugged. "He read too much of it and then insisted on sharing. Being stuck underwater in the dark with only a head lamp to guide you between chambers is bad enough without an over-active imagination." In the context of a mess hall on a starship, the idea of investigating subterranean caves might have seemed utterly random but, if anything, it was a fairly average example of what happened when you made a habit out of seeking the new and unusual. Zia had dozens more stories of adventures every bit as weird. "Parkour I haven't tried though."

"You're welcome to tag along next time I have the holodeck booked. It does take practice though." He grinned. "I've not found anyone really interested so far. Xavier joined me once but it wasn't his thing either. He tried though, but I doubt he'll join me again." His expression turned fonder at the mention of the other Betazoid. "I guess it's an acquired taste of sorts? What had been your ah...fondest activity so far?"

"Oh Goddess. Uhhhh."

It took several mouthfuls, which was not a reflection of lack of choice so much as an over-abundance. "That's really hard to choose," she complained, laughing as her hesitation brought her no closer to a suitable answer. "I'd say eight out of ten things that I get roped into, I'd probably do again. Now if you're talking about things that keep me sane, then that's music. All the way." She ate a berry and, eyes sparkling, indulged a natural curiosity to dig deeper. Something about this guy was odd, after all, and you didn't solve mysteries without asking question. "So who's Xavier?"

The man seemed to blush a little. "Someone I care for a great deal," he admitted, "he's the chief of operations and he's... pretty cute." Jerant smiled, almost shyly which was a contrast to his open nature. "Do you have someone? I mean someone who's special to you?"

If Zia felt any compunction prying into a stranger's love life, she demonstrated none of it. She did grin, however, a reaction that was swiftly tempered by the wrinkling of her nose. "I just got here, and long distance romance sounds like a lot on top of trying not to mess up brig protocol." The brunette shrugged. "I guess we'll have to see what happens."

"Well could be you brought a partner with you?" Jerant shrugged. "Some people go where their partners go. So far I've gone where my best friend got assigned, we are...well were, I guess and hopefully will be again soon...very attuned to each other, because we grew up together. He needed someone telepathic to help, and I needed someone to teach me how to control it. So why not go and help him with his duties?"

There was a thread that ran through the man's thoughts like a weasel trying to dive in and out of fallen branches. Zia was left with the impression that there was a greater meaning she was meant to glean from Jerant's explanation but she didn't have a lot of time for random guesswork. It was sloppy, inaccurate and lead to false assumptions. By now, her stack of pancakes was decimated to the point of being at least two-thirds consumed, which definitely seemed like enough. Zia pushed aside the plate, picked up the remains of her tea, and nestled the mug comfortably between both hands.

"Is control a problem for you then?"

"I was born telepathic, despite being part human. My father is half Betazoid, my mother full. So when I was little I suppose it was. Right now...I have issues. A glimpse of feelings at best... I've been really sick recently and I lost my telepathy." A pained expression crossed his features. "I'm working on getting it back though, I have high hopes considering current result is that I'm occasionally getting something..."

There was a flicker of something that dug beyond the energetic frippery of casual conversation in Zia's eyes. A faint frown accompanied the rapid flurry of her thoughts and she lowered her drink to the table to rest her weight on her forearms. "Paracortex dysfunction? What happened?"

"Some engineered virus that targeted hybrids. I think I lost my telepathy within the first hours after infection. It's like part of me is missing...."

Zia raised her eyebrows. With family members involved in psychiatric healthcare specifically around telepathic dysfunction and malfunction, there was a vested interest but no personal knowledge that would offer much insight. "Did your psilosynine levels drop too?" Her brow furrowed. "Telepathic injury is rough. Were you the only one affected?"

"I don't know. The doctor said I was fine and it should have returned. The counselor said my mind seems trapped in a thick fog. He's a telepath too and he's melded with me." Jerant seemed to get a little stressed, talking about something that should come naturally but now made him feel like a cripple. "No, Lieutenant Leiko is affected as well as we both got sick. I think we were the only ones that got sick as every other hybrid was confined to the ship after we were quarantined." He gave her a somewhat hopeful look . "You think it's something else? Savin said we just have to find a way to clear the fog, or at least forge a path through it?"

Zia winced slightly at the implied poetry of applying metaphor to a telepathic breakdown. "If you're experiencing nullification," she reasoned, "then there has to be a physiological reason for it. Telepathy isn't magic." How many times had she been forced to have this conversation with the other cadets back at the Academy? She'd lost count. "There was a biochemical trigger by the sound of it, your lingering symptom sounds like residual injury but that's not really my area of study." Zia frowned, and in her pensiveness, betrayed a gravity that had been non-existent in her earlier demeanour. "My cousin, back on Betazed, works with telepathic illness and trauma. If you want, I can send your data to her. I know there can be a lot of nuances to our brain chemistry that non-Betazoids don't understand and I guess yours must be even more unique."

"I think I can probably speak for Xavier here too, at least I hope I do, but personally I welcome any and all help. I'm already working with the chief counselor and we had some progress. I think, because I trust him fully and I've known him most of my life, to a rather personal mental connection. You see, Savin is hearing impaired so he does understand how I feel."

This was, as far as Zia was concerned, the entire reason why walking up to people and extending an offer to interact was far better than opting for a lonely table at the back of a mess hall where the only potential for getting to know people suddenly rested with choices outside your own. She felt sympathy for Jerant's situation but she was also slowly amassing a stockpile of information about the rest of the crew. "How'd you guys meet?"

"I was sent to Vulcan when I was ten. I couldn't control my telepathy and Savin needed someone to help him communicate. We helped each other, growing up. He's my best friend, I consider him a brother to be honest." And once, long ago, a possible love interest. "I still help him communicate when he's got bridge duty. He can focus on only one person are the time so I help him when there's more than one to focus on. Sign and telepathy work well together as needed. Except now...I lack one aspect thus always needing line of sight."

It was a meandering explanation but Ziahli caught the gist of it. Moreover, as she listened, she maintained eye contact, and by the end of the recount, there was a twinkle of merriment to her expression that reflected the sincerity of his sentiment. "I've not met him yet but he sounds like good company."

"To me, he is," Jerant smiled, "in more ways than one. I'm sure when you have need, he'll actually find you."

"I don't think I've ever needed a counselor," Zia mused before her expression cleared to accommodate a wry smirk. "Though I've probably been the cause of several people's therapy bill. Maybe he can come free running with us." There was absolutely no visible chagrin to her presumption. "Or I could introduce you both to horse riding. You can bring Mr. Dreamboat too, if you wanted."

"Dreamboat?" Jerant arched an eyebrow at that. "I'd like to try it though. Savin doesn't run, it's not his thing. He prefers combat, says it helps hone his senses. He tried teach me, and I can do it bit I don't like it. I'm not a fighter. Now a horse.... that'll be a different sense of freedom, right?"

"Whatever his name is; Xavier." The particulars weren't the point. Finishing off her tea, Zia started to gather the remnants of her breakfast, laying cutlery across the plate whilst trying to balance the empty mug amidst the sodden remains of abandoned pancake. "We'll have to book some holodeck time. Later though, I need to report in for the morning."

Zia rose, and, precariously lifting the plate, reminded him, "If you want me to contact my cousin, just send me some data I can forward to her. Otherwise..." She paused a moment, grinned, and then reached over to tap the edge of the plate against his forehead, an improvisation to compensate for her lack of hands. "Thanks for breakfast."

"I'll ask him when I see him," he promised, "do you need any help with that? Don't want you to get covered in sticky stuff if you're on duty, ma'am."

"Nope, I've got it." She'd already made one guy wait on her, inadvertent though that had been. Even as the words were spoken, Zia had moved, her voice carrying as she called back, "Say hi to Dreamboat for me!"