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XO Quarters - Under the Light of a New Sun (Attn. Kastarak)

Posted May 31, 2023, 5:35 a.m. by Lieutenant Junior Grade Kastarak (Doctor / Counsellor) (Richard A)

Posted by Commander T’Aria (XO / Navigation Officer) in XO Quarters - Under the Light of a New Sun (Attn. Kastarak)

Posted by Ensign Kastarak (Doctor / Counsellor) in XO Quarters - Under the Light of a New Sun (Attn. Kastarak)

Posted by Commander T’Aria (XO / Navigation Officer) in XO Quarters - Under the Light of a New Sun (Attn. Kastarak)
Posted by… suppressed (5) by the Post Ghost! 👻
(Snipity, snip!)

“Will you enlighten me, Y’cha, or shall I sit and guess your news?”

T’Aria quirked an eyebrow at her brother who, since acquiring her undivided attention, hadn’t spoken nor moved except to lean into his chair. His elusiveness piqued her interest. She would not willingly anticipate his news for long, especially when his silence often prepared her for the unfortunate. He said his news was ‘hardly troubling’ and yet his demeanor troubled her.

Tilting forward, T’Aria inspected his face for insight into his thoughts. His expression was inscrutable. He didn’t have the slight twitch of his lips betraying a suppressed smile nor the crinkle that formed between his eyebrows when in deep thought. Y’cha sat. And he stared. If she hadn’t become so comfortable under his watchful gaze, as he seldom strayed from Hanesh and her while they navigated the shifting sand of those cliff-side beaches, she might’ve thought it unsettling.

“Forgive me,” he stiffened and interlaced his fingers, “I was pondering the logic of my request.”

“Request?” T’Aria braced against her forearms. “Do you require my assistance, Y’cha?”

“Somewhat,” he hesitated for a heartbeat or two, then continued. “I understand your reservations about returning to New Vulcan, but allow me a moment to explain before you refuse.”

“I am willing to listen,” she ignored the familiar queasiness in her gut that often deterred her from thoughts of returning to the Vulcan colony, threatening to keep her away for another year.

“Awiyat is nearly of age,” he wasted no time presenting his case, “and she will soon undergo Kahs-wan with her peers. Elders within our community have adapted the ritual to the land. I expect other clans and families have similarly adapted their traditions. Saya and I, however, intend to honour our ancestors by upholding S’t’Kal Pola and S’wek Lor traditions. We have blended our traditions to ensure Awiyat knows and can decide whether she will carry her ancestors’ teachings into adulthood.”

He paused to assess whether she was still listening. She was – intently.

“Traditionally, our family has embraced Kahs-wan together, commemorating successful passage into adulthood with a naming ceremony. Awiyat is the first of our family to undergo Kahs-wan on New Vulcan. Our elders no longer walk with us and, seeing as you and I are what remains of the S’t’Kal Pola,” he paused, “Saya and I would be honoured if you would attend her naming ceremony.”

Her quarters suddenly felt cold and the air thick and humid – unfavourable to desert-adapted lungs. T’Aria stiffened to veil shallow breaths and sweat beading at her eyebrows. Why did she feel so… agitated? He made a reasonable request. Once that, if it were a few years earlier, she would’ve readily honored.

Y’cha and T’Aria came from a family who respected ancestral knowledge, often disseminating teachings through storytelling. Romar often shared with them the mythological tales that articulated the unknowns of their ancestors’ world. He would ask them to suspend their disbelief and consider how the world might have seemed from their perspective.

T’Aria learned empathy through her grandfather’s stories.

Those stories waned as they approached maturity, logic soon overpowering childish fantasies, and their nightly conversations shifted to medicinal herbs and ecological knowledge. Prisu took over then. She taught them the history of their people from a logical perspective and related rituals like Kahs-wan to the long, slender branches that touch nearby trees. They were the remnants of their past connected to their logic-driven present by association and a reverence for history.

Still, the knowledge shared by their grandparents provided insight into an ever-shifting worldview and gave them the tools to navigate cultures and people unlike the Vulcans. T’Aria valued their ancestral teachings and, even in their obsolescence, wove them into her life. At least, she used to.

“T’Aria?”

She hadn’t registered her name until he said it another time. Even then, she only looked up, her eyes slowly adjusting. The room still felt cold and humid and heavy. He didn’t seem to notice and took her attention as an invitation to continue. For once, she was grateful they were light-years apart.

“We would be content to extend our home to you and any who might accompany you,” he said, “that is, if you decide to attend.”

“I intend to be present for Awiyat’s Kahs-wan, just as you were for mine,” T’Aria assured. “I will consider your offer, Y’cha. Allow me the week to discuss with commanding officer and companions.”

“Of course,” he said. “I will not keep you longer, T’Aria, as I am certain you have duties requiring your attention, just as I have mine. Keep me apprised of your plans.”

“I shall,” she answered, “pash tah, Y’cha.”

Pash tah, sister.”

T’Aria clicked off the monitor and relaxed, allowing the chair to support her weight.

Of the thoughts interrupting her natural order, the question of who might accompany her to New Vulcan was unremitting. T’Aria closed her eyes to regain composure, allowing her nervous system time to regulate itself, and meditated on the question. When she open them minutes later, two names emerged from the din, one who she assumed best to contact first. Kastarak.

T’Aria straightened and retrieved her PaDD from the desk to compose a message to Kastarak that invited him to her quarters for tea, when time permitted, to discuss a special request.

— T’Aria

On the appointed hour, Kastarak appeared at her quarters and chimed the door. He did not know what the special request was, but he had never been invited to her quarters before, nor had he invited her to his. It must be of some personal matter – nothing professional would lead to visit to such an intimate and private space.

They had shared much with one another. The three Vulcans on board had their share of traumas. Would she want advice, compassion…? Kastarak knew not. He had hardly spoken to her since that fateful day at Umbri’s quarters when his pon farr was initiated and she dragged him to Sickbay. Could it be about that?

Speculating made little sense.

– Kastarak

T’Aria selected a loose-leaf Vulcan tea and warm, toasted spices from her collection. While the synthesizer boiled the water, she scooped 10g of tea and a few whole spices into a kettle, then poured the water in once prepared and covered it to steep. It would be about 5 minutes.

Her door chimed just as she was recapping the ingredients, allowing her enough time to cross the room, set them atop their respective shelves and welcome her visitor in with a curt ‘come’.

“Kastarak,” T’Aria greeted and steeped aside for him to come inside, “thank you for joining me.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” he said flatly as Vulcans would, with a slight nod of the head, before stepping inside. He could not resist the temptation to look around:

Her quarters were warm and arid, illumed by candles with the faint aroma of incense wafting through the air. To distract from the harshness of standard design, T’Aria adorned the space with reds and oranges that seemed indistinguishable from the walls in the current glow. There were embroidered rugs and cushions arranged around the coffee table. Beside it, she had a wooden bookshelf with novels, gifted trinkets, incense, and a single, well-attended plant.

If his gaze wandered the the dining module, he might notice the shelves populated with spices, coffees and teas with origins indicated by gold labels. There were a pair of handcrafted mugs – one clay and engraved with the setting desert sun and the other ceramic and painted like sea foam meeting sand – situated on a small table where T’Aria left the kettle moments before.

T’Aria led him to the table and offered him one of the two available chairs.

“Vulcan tea,” she gestured to the kettle, “steeped with cinnamon, redspice and cardamom.”

“Would you like a cup?”

“I would, thank you.” He did not comment on T’Aria mixing Vulcan redspice with Earth spices. Did she have an affinity for Earth that they had not explored?

Redspice, cinnamon and cardamom had a warm, musky aroma reminiscent of the desert after a long-awaited rain. Mirjana, her roommate at Starfleet Medical Academy, crafted the blend to help T’Aria feel more comfortable on Earth. She hadn’t felt “homesick”, as Mirjana believed, but her empathy and frequent offerings endeared her to the unusual blend of Human and Vulcan spices. And, though she never told her, to Mirjana herself. T’Aria seldom consumed the blend except in the presence of humans, who naturally found their indigenous spices more palatable than redspice or plomeek alone. Kastarak was not human. Why did she prepare him Mirjana’s blend?

Was she caught between two worlds? Missing a home to which they could never return? T’Aria wavered at the thought, momentarily caught off-guard, but quickly blinked it away.

In the minutes thereafter, there was a silence, while T’Aria prepared the tea and Kastarak to find himself a space that was suitable for him in the warm-coloured room. He settled on a rather large cushion, one to support his posterior while sitting by the low coffee table in a lotus-like position.

She delayed a few minutes for them to prepare tea and settle before asking:

“When did you last visit New Vulcan?”

“I haven’t visited it since leaving the planet for Star Fleet Academy on Earth.” He paused, reflecting on his I believe you will allow me to be frank: I have experienced the place as dismal, fraught with unresolved trauma channelled through a collective rejection of trauma and emotion. It never became part of my identity, and I have no desire of making it mine.”

He paused, breathed a bit and stretched his spine a bit. It had curled slightly while mentioning his uncomfortable truth about his replacement home planet.

“I sense there is a deeper reason behind your question. We have never spoken of New Vulcan before, which, in itself, is something we might consider meaningful… What is on your mind?”

— T’Aria

– Kastarak

bumpty bumpty
(OOC: Thank you!)

T’Aria felt the tension, once suffocating and sharp, between her shoulder blades ease to a dull ache as Kastarak spoke. Why did his truth pacify her? It was painful and raw. Yet, he echoed the sentiments she could not articulate without leaning into the comfort of emotional suppression.

New Vulcan was a stark reminder of the tragedy suffered by their people. There was no logic in genocide. There was no justification for Nero’s actions. There was no step-by-step guide for healing. Still, they behaved as though it were linear. They detached themselves from any overt emotional connection and processed the events as if they were paragraphs unfolding on the sun-bleached pages of a book entitled “Vulcan History”. If one couldn’t feel the pain then, logically, it didn’t exist.

In answering a simple question, Kastarak captured the feelings that afflicted her since Y’cha’s invitation and wove them into words. They were different people, so their perceptions varied, but he helped make sense of the abstract and, though he didn’t know it, helped her to understand why she’d been so hesitant. Was this what humans meant when they said they felt “seen”?

“Thank you for sharing your truth with me, Kastarak.”

“Before Vulcan’s destruction,” T’Aria spoke with a pensive slowness after recentering herself in the warmth of her tea, “my family honoured Vulcan traditions under my grandmother’s unwavering commitment and guidance. She believed our ceremonies forged indestructible bonds between us, the land and our people. They connected us. Y’cha, my brother, and I are what remains of our family and, until recently, we have distanced ourselves from Vulcan teachings and traditions.”

“Y’cha and his partner, Saya, welcomed a daughter to New Vulcan shortly after relocating.” T’Aria paused, suddenly empathising with Y’cha’s hesitation when asking her to come, to consider how to invite Kastarak to New Vulcan. “They decided to raise Awiyat in the culture and traditions of both of their families. Included in those traditions, of course, is the coming-of-age ceremony. Awiyat will enter her 10th year in 21 days. She will undergo Kahs-wan with her peers. I am not familiar with all variations, but my family recognises the ascent from adolescence to adulthood with a naming ceremony. I was given the childhood name ‘Rovalat’ and received ‘T’Aria’ upon completing Kahs-wan. Often, these names are gifted during a family gathering, and Y’cha has asked me to attend.”

“Our family is not as populous as it was,” T’Aria continued, “so he offered me to invite others. I believe it respectful to invite only those I consider an extension of my family. I consider you one of those people. Like you, I have little desire to identify with New Vulcan, and there is immeasurable pain associated with its emergence as our surrogate homeworld. It will be… difficult to visit. So, I understand and will respect whatever decision you make. All said, it would be my honour if you would join my family and I in commemorating Awiyat’s passage into adulthood.”

“I do not expect an immediate answer,” her voice softened, “take however long you need to process.”

— T’Aria

“There is no need to process your question,” he said, having listened carefully to everything T’Aria had said. He was honoured she had chosen him on this – that she regarded him as as an extension of her family – probably the best compliment to be given by one Vulcan to another. True friendship among Vulcans was, in Kastarak’s opinion, rare. Instead, relations were fostered among family, cousins, relations and so on, as many generations of the same progenitor would be alive around the same time. What reason was there to have friends? “I am honoured to be asked to accompany you, and I am honoured to accept your invitation.”

He had not taken any time off since getting on the Chernov almost two years ago. He had amassed some annual leave, even when considering the four days on Risa that were cut short by the strange mission to Qo’noS. On a task of familiar nation of this kind, he was sure T’Aria would be granted the necessary leave. But would he? How would he ask for permission with the captain? He had no relations on New Vulcan. No friends even.

“I am not sure that I would be granted the necessary time. How long do you expect we will be away? When should we leave?”

– Kastarak

T’Aria conveyed her gratitude in a simple yet earnest “thank you”. She could not find the words to express to Kastarak how much she valued his support and companionship throughout the years. Together, they triumphed against a pernicious flu-like pathogen, oh-so-deftly masqueraded as Romulans, and confronted the daunting challenges of their culture and biology. These experiences compelled them – forced them, even – to confront their own emotions and grapple with the nuances of their grief, anger and pain. T’Aria accepted that she hadn’t allowed herself to experience her negative emotions. Instead, she had buried them deep within her subconscious until she could find the strength to engage and process them. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face New Vulcan, but T’Aria could not think of anyone else she would rather have by her side.

Though she expected their absence would not exceed seven days, T’Aria understood that Taggart might not approve Kastarak’s request for leave from his duties. She anticipated Taggart would be empathetic to the cause, but kept two persuasive tools in the back of her mind. 1) Command had not granted them properly shore leave in over two years without spontaneous interruption and 2) they were between assignments, where Kastarak and T’Aria’s absence would not be as noticed.

“Awiyat will embark on her Kahs-wan alone,” she said, “Y’cha and Saya will not expect us until she returns on the tenth day. I will discuss the occasion with Captain Taggart and request he grants you the appropriate time. If approved, we should expect to leave in two weeks.”

She considered Kastarak, “does this give you enough time to prepare?”

— T’Aria

Kastarak nodded. “Yes. I see no logical reason for Taggart to deny me the time. I shall ask him.” Yet Kastarak knew that Taggart was not always known for his logic. Kastarak did want this, he was honoured to have been asked, and this was meaningful for him. He would be able to convince the captain if it had come to that.

“I will arrange with Nurse Sutalo and Dr Symar, too, for my shifts to be covered. It shall not be difficult. We have implemented a schedule that will be fine.”

Once he mentioned Symar, he thought of the man, and felt a lump of concern in his gut. He immediately took the feeling away.

“Dr Symar, however…” he said, “I believe you and I are the only ones who know of his affliction and regulatory struggles. He might not be well without either you nor me. I understand you two have some kind of understanding. You know him well. How might we ensure his safety?”

He paused.

“Is it even our duty to ensure his safety?” A rhetorical and provocative question that Kastarak could only ask in such a safe environment as the one T’Aria provided.

– Kastarak


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