Waving Through a Window

Posted on Wed Nov 16th, 2022 @ 6:17am by Jerant van Rijn & Ensign Ziahli Lorel

Mission: Scylla and Charybdis
2578 words - 5.2 OF Standard Post Measure

Honesty, above so many other things, formed the building block of most telepathic societies. No matter the cultural norms around psionic entitlement and the expectations of non-intrusive interaction, there was still often very little denying that any incessant amount of false expression was likely to cause a migraine eventually. It was counter-intuitive to the practises of many others races, who favoured the inclusion of dishonesty as a form of politeness, and could therefore be difficult not only to explain but navigate when you had one group expecting you to tell them how it was, and the other who considered you uncouth for even suggesting their piano recital had shown signs of lack of preparation. Knowing when to speak up and when to hold your tongue wasn't always easy.

Zia, though dint of some pretty savage self-reflection, had come to the conclusion that nobody was going to complain if she took honest responsibility for her recent outbursts. Though such explanations might have needed to include phrases like, 'unethical assumption' and 'please don't do that again or I might punch you before I remember my manners', most of her confession involved simply apologising for panicking. For being rude. For allowing her grandmother's fierce insistence that all forms of telepathic suppression were abuse influence her better judgement. She'd missed an opportunity to catch the doctor before he'd joined the away teams, but there was someone languishing in Sickbay that could probably do with a conciliatory gesture and then some form of decent company.

At the very least, she hoped he was still talking to her.

Peeking into the room first as the doors swished open, the Betazoid peered in several directions before stepping in to allow the entry to close behind her. "Anyone home?"

"I'm here." There was a note of happiness in the young man's voice as he heard someone call out. He'd agreed to stay in sickbay for the time being, and he wasn't sure if he was allowed to leave at all. He hadn't seen the doctor in quite some time now, so he had actually assumed he was supposed to stay in his little ward. Barring brief treks to the bathroom or replicator of course. Getting up, he peered around the corner to see who was visiting, since he hadn't recognized the voice.

"Oh hi," he greeted, smiling at the visitor. "Are you here to see a medic? I haven't seen one in quite some time, though I think there's a few nurses around?"

"Well, technically I think I'm supposed to get this checked out." The small cortical monitor attached just behind Zia's ear was no longer blocking telepathic activity so much as recording it. It wasn't the most comfortable but the compromise was far better than the sensation of extreme isolation that had, admittedly, caught her off-guard at the time. It took a lot to anger the Betazoid and it had been unfortunate that the doctor had found exactly the perfect trigger so early in her deployment. As a first impression, it wasn't her finest.

But the experience had, after she'd calmed down, allowed Zia to empathise with what Jerant had been experiencing lately. The more she'd thought about her conversation with him regarding his condition, the more she'd come to realise that there was probably not many people on board who actually understood how crippling sudden psionic silence could be. With a smile that was meant to be both apologetic and sympathetic, Zia folded her arms across her stomach and shrugged. "But I figured I'd see how you were doing too. Everyone's kind of preoccupied with this mystery ship."

"That's very kind of you ma'am," Jerant answered as he climbed back up on the bed and crossed his legs under him, making space for her to sit if she wanted to. "Tell me about this mystery ship? I'm not getting much of the fun stuff, being a civilian...and I'm not allowed on the bridge without Savin... I have no idea what's going on at the moment, except for my telepathy suddenly coming back in full overdrive. How are you holding up? You're full Betazoid, right?"

Wrinkling her nose at his choice of honorifics, Zia spared an idle glance for any protesting nurses before hoisting herself up to sit on the other end of the bed, pulling her legs to sit cross-legged and face him. She hunched a shoulder. "Sleeping takes a bit more effort than I'm used to." Typically, Zia could languish like a cat in sunshine if given the opportunity. The previous night had been filled with enough distractions to take the blame for lack of sleep but she was pragmatic enough to know she'd kept herself busy for a reason. "It's not...pleasant," she admitted before smiling her reassurance. "Though I'm mostly able to screen it out. Not sure what's causing it, nobody's updated me on that. Actually, nobody's updating me on anything. Apparently this super-secret ship we've come to rescue is so super-secret that nobody knows anything about it."

It wasn't true, of course, more that the Betazoid only had a scant few acquaintances to draw information out of and most of them were either with the away teams, in bed or, in the case of present company, otherwise indisposed. Zia's investigative zeal balked at the lack of information, though she was a little at a loss to know which sources to plug first. "Breakfast chatter seemed to hold a lot of speculation about Romulans though."

"Romulan?" He reached to scratch his neck, just where the inhibitor was placed. It was uncomfortable at best, and it was a hindrance. Still being blind, while utterly uncomfortable and making him feel miserable, was better than being shorted out and overwhelmed. "That's interesting....I bet Savin would love to hear about it... he's wanting to learn more about his heritage. You do know there's Romulans aboard right? One of the surgeons is too... well a hybrid anyway." He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I can get a little over excited for him, especially if it may have linguistic opportunity for myself."

Like most of her people, whose psionic infrastructure had resonated at least on some level with the cataclysmic destruction endured by the Romulan Empire, Zia had a reasonably open-mind with regard to the inclusion of those displaced. Having others serve aboard a Starfleet vessel wasn't cause for immediate concern, and as such, that news wasn't responsible for the wrinkle of her nose. His optimistic assumptions were very Betazoid in nature but didn't really address the nature of the hushed whispers she'd overheard, nor the trepidation she'd sensed. "I'm not sure these Romulans are expected to invite us over for dinner. I can't say for sure," she added, "Just that a few people were...worried."

"Hmmm..." Jerant remained silent for a few seconds. "Well for him I hope he gets the chance. You do know he hasn't always known he's Romulan right? It's uhm...pretty public knowledge. He was raised Vulcan, on Vulcan. It's a long story best asked of him though but you know... he's my best friend and I'd do anything to help him." His smile returned. And Doctor tr'Rehu, he's half Betazoid. I don't know him that well though other than that he's a kind soul. Anyway do you think you can find out more about this ship? Of you need someone who can read Romulan...I can...not fluently but I can."

"The Romulan presence was breakfast speculation," Zia hastened to point out. "And I don't expect I'm far enough up the seniority ladder to be able to just walk up and ask for corroboration." If anything, his friends sounded like they've have far more luck, if the scuttlebutt was even worth pursuing. "The most I can say for sure is that the away teams left about an hour ago." Or at least, one of them had, she assumed they'd all gone at the same time. Kevan hadn't exactly been in a mood to focus on work at the time. "What about you though? If the doctor's over on the mystery ship, is there really any need for you to still be here?"

"I actually don't know," Jerant admitted, "I was asked to stay so I did. I don't think I got much use right now anyway. My telepathic ability is paramount to assisting Savin when he's got bridge duty, so I'm useless in that regard at the moment, and there's no other linguistic duties right now that I can put my teeth in so to speak." He shrugged. "I don't really have other skills that I can put to use either, unless you need me to scale any buildings?" He sighed softly. "Sometimes I wish I did have formal other duties to tend to, but alas I'm not Starfleet trained. I mean I've gone through a few basics of course, but I'm not an officer." He looked up. "Maybe I should learn some other uhm... duties? But, what?"

The question caught Zia by surprise. She'd never considered a civilian's life on board, mostly because it had never been a consideration for her to attempt a non-commissioned pathway to her desired career. For as long as she'd known it was a possibility, Starfleet had been the goal. "I mean, there are civilian duties on board that have a wider scope than helping just one person." At least, she assumed there was. Having never been deployed before, the Betazoid didn't have a lot of actual experience to call on. "Food preparation, maybe. Or bartending. Hairdressing?" Pausing a moment, Zia's lips curved into a private smile before her eyebrows raised and she added pragmatically. "Masseuse duties?"

The last suggestions gave him a pause for thought. "Fitness instructor?" he ventured carefully, "well sort of anyway...I have a thing with scaling buildings and structures and running across rooftops." He smiled sheepishly. "It's fun but can be really dangerous. I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook but I suppose I could tend to a bar. Might enable me to pick up more languages too, right? I do have linguistic duties, at times anyway but there's no languages right now that need to be perfected within the UT, and we're not really in an area that needs a linguist. I mean, the UT does cover Romulan doesn't it? I do try to speak with people in their native language at times, and I know some do appreciate it, but really the UT covers all most of the times."

With her perception hindered by the need for self-protection, and Jerant's own issues, Zia found it hard to pinpoint exactly what was bothering her about his rambling, other than it seemed reminiscent of a dam bursting. She was, after all, only a mere acquaintance and one that had been somewhat rude to him the last time they'd spoken. Whatever had prompted this was clearly something that had played on his mind, sitting alone in Sickbay, and Zia found herself in the uncertain position of giving advice to someone she barely knew. Her brows knitted. "This might sound trite," she eventually said, "But what do you want to do? Life's short enough without squandering most of it on filling in time before you're useful to someone else."

"I don't know," Jerant admitted slowly, brows furrowing in clear doubt. "I want to be useful, and right now I feel anything but. Right now, I feel I'm letting people down, because I'm not myself, you know?" Surely, she would understand, being in a similar predicament? "I hope the medical staff does find a solution soon," he added, gesturing towards the general vicinity of the entire ship. "For all of us that are in the same boat, pun intended. I still don't know if this is contained to just us Betazoids, or whether all telepathically inclined folk on the ship are affected. I haven't seen Savin since this started, for example, nor spoken with him. And he's a telepath too."

"I'm not sure either," Zia admitted. She'd been so annoyed and frazzled, and then ultimately distracted, that checking out for a while had been the best way to regather her composure. With a shrug of her shoulders, she smiled. "It still sounds like you need to dig a bit deeper than, 'what can I be doing right now?' and start looking more into 'what do I want to be doing long term?'. Helping other people is great, and I'm sure your friend is grateful to have your support, but having your entire life pinned down to following one person around doesn't sound all that fulfilling to me. Especially not when there's someone else to follow around." She winked, her lips twitching. Her earlier behaviour had left no room to acknowledge the man's relationship with the Operations Chief, but Zia was nothing if not adept at making up for lost opportunities.

"Oh I know he's grateful," Jerant smiled, "I know him quite well. He actually is my official assignment, I'm officially his ah...aide I suppose. Support person in terms of communication. But I can't join him in counseling sessions so barring bridge and away team duties, as I can't always join those eiter, I look for linguistic opportunities. Perhaps I need to speak to the XO or something, about additional things. Personal coach or trainer perhaps, as I do like sports. Or maybe enlist and learn something new." He smiled gratefully now. "You've given me things to think about."

Zia grinned at that. "Take my word for it, there's nothing wrong with shaping your life in way that makes the most of what you want to achieve. People will connect to it naturally, or they won't, you can't force synergy. Being there for other people is great but if you don't have yourself sorted out first, then there'll come a time where they're off doing their own thing and you're left to wonder where the time went."

"Yeah...I don't plan on being his interpreter forever, but yeah we got this connection that he's not had with any other. Probably because we grew up together. So, for now, I guess I'm here? I just need something proper for the times he doesn't have need of me. Perhaps I'll have a word with the XO, when this is all done with, and we can all be our happy selves again. Right?"

"If you say so," Zia quipped, unwinding her legs to slip back down onto the ground. "Judging by everything that's happened since I arrived, I'm kind of doubtful that there's a better time than the present." With a grin, the Betazoid peered back into the main offices and then lifted her shoulders to drop them immediately in a resigned shrug. "I'm going to assume everyone's too busy to make sure my head is still screwed on right. I need to report for duty." Her gaze dropped to Jerant's. "You okay? Need anything sent in?"

"You seem fine to me," Jerant smiled before shaking his head. "Nah, I can get up and get it myself. Gives me an excuse to get out of this room, since I got no idea whether I can leave. Doc has said nothing. Ah well..." He cast her a grateful smile now. "Thank you though for keeping me company for a bit. I really appreciate that."