Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharah Fayth (Medical) in Another New Ship

Posted by Lieutenant Markus Woods (Chief Science Officer) in Another New Ship

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharah Fayth (Medical) in Another New Ship
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻

(Snip)
“Well then, come with me.” He offered her a hand to lead the way. “I was making something, I don’t know if you’ve had before. It’s origins come from Earth in an old nation-state called Italy. I wanted to get some herbs to mix with part of it. I used some of the vegetables from the food side of the arboretum, and generally made everything from scratch.” There was more that went in to what he was making, which for now he kept locked away. But already the thought of food, especially good food made his tummy rumble a little.

“I’ve had spaghetti. That comes from Italian region? I’ve heard it’s not real Italian though because something about the noodles are Asian in origin, not Italian.” She smiled softly and shyly and as she walked out the door with a glance back, did she miss anything? No, she didn’t. And then her attention turned to the man beside her and she took his offered hand, hesitantly, expecting the input, the noise to increase, but instead it was simply calming and a point of stillness. How did he do that?

As her hand landed in his he smiled, and for a moment there was a little burst of happiness or celebration, but it quickly returned to background noise. He gave a little squeeze, then drew her along, heading for the nearest lift that he knew of.

“Sure a lot of it is replicated. But the thing about cooking is that it’s art as much as it is science. Starting with base materials. So even replicated stuff to start, cooking manually still comes out much better than if it was just replicated. All the layers of chemical reactions, the variables in what goes in and how much, cooking time and conditions. And some even say the attitude in how you make it. If you love to cook, and put love into it, it just always seems to be better. Even for an impartial tester.” He gave her growing smile. “What do you say?”

Mark

He liked to cook! Sharah enjoyed trying, experimenting. She tucked a memory away. It had been long enough now that the memories were happy and didn’t hurt so much. That she could allow herself to move forward with where ever her life took her and not feel like she was betraying anyone. That was most obvious by how much she liked Markus. She tucked those thoughts away too, to examine later, and simply try to enjoy the moment. “I say that food prepared by hand is wonderful and worth the effort. I would choose it over replicated any time. But replicators are a blessing for those who can’t cook.”

Fayth

“It’s a life saver,” he agreed. “A lot of the time I just replicate whatever, and it’s pretty good most of the time. But sometimes ya need that little extra pizazz.” He finished with a little bit of flair and punch by way of demonstration, perhaps being a bit dorky, but willing to look a little foolish in trade for some fun. “Spaghetti is good, and you might be right about it not being Italian. And there’s a lot you could do with it. I actually could turn around and make some instead of what I have in mind. Buuut I think I’ll stick to my guns on this one.” There was some kind of memory associated with spaghetti. He’d caught that much, though for now he wouldn’t intrude. Everybody had baggage.

A soft bubble of laughter that escaped her at his antics. She was clearly laughing with and not at him. But more than the laughter was the underlying knowledge that she was relaxed and comfortable enough to laugh. Rather than always having her guard up, always aware of everything around her.

As they got to the lift he paused. “Uh, so being up near quarters decks won’t be too much of a problem will it? If it is… Can always move the festivities.”

Mark

A gentle flexing of fingers in his hand .was a physical indication of a return to the harshness of reality. “Distance has no effect on the volume and intensity of the noise. At least not onboard a ship. Quarters or elsewhere it will be the same.” Sharah shrugged. It was part of her life and she’d had to learn to cope with it because there was no changing.

Lt Fayth

He saw the clouds return but simply nodded. “Alright then.” Just then a turbolift arrived and he gave a silent ‘after you’ gesture with one hand, then followed. =^=Deck two.=^= The computer beeped compliance and then began it’s jaunt over and up. “So what’s your favorite thing to drink? Replicated, and not replicated?”

It was a simple question, related to the moment, but also another way to get to know her on a level that wasn’t stuff he could look up in a file. Plus it would help with meal planning. Something like this wasn’t just about the food, but an experience. So far, despite some sour notes, the evening had been better than he’d ever expected. And he surmised it was the same for her. Better to keep it going, just for a bit longer. But then he’d have to get back to work, at some point. Burn some midnight oil for the briefing later. Duty. It never slept.

“Water mostly. Sometimes Jestral Tea.” The clouds were always there, they followed her like some cartoon character. ‘Alcohol and caffeine are a very bad idea for someone like me.‘ She’d tried wine, a glass here or there, but she didn’t like it or the way it made her feel. So basics were best. Sharah picked up on the idea of ‘Duty’ and was curious. “Do you like being chief science officer? I tried but I just wasn’t cut out for it. My own experiences, my fields of expertise were too narrow. I made a muck of things.”

“That’s a little complicated. I got into Starfleet because of my dad. I lost him when I was in my early teens. Rough time. He was a ship captain, and my hero. But his ship went up in flames. So when I was old enough, I joined up, as a way to follow in his footsteps and be close to him. Though I leaned into sciences. I was always so interested in the stars.” He broke into a faint but wry smile after a moment, a little lopsided. “You’d think, then, that I would’ve done the optimal thing and gone into astrophysics and stellar cartography. Buuut, that always seemed so … passé. Like anybody can do it, it’s a common job. I think I might have been happier if I went that route. I still could, I suppose.”

The lift came to a halt on Deck 2, as ordered. He let her exit first, then began leading the way to his quarters. “And I stuck with Sciences to make my mom happy. But I went in wanting Command. I still do. But Sciences isn’t exactly a fast-track. I enjoy the work, but I’m not … where I want to be. I thought I would be farther along in my career. If that makes any sense.”

But for now, he needed this. Connection, distraction. Some good ol’ dopamine too. But it was beginning to feel like much, much more. And perhaps the beginning of something new, and good. At least he hoped, though he tried not to do that too loudly.

Mark

Sharah blushed, feeling the flush color her cheeks. She tried not to listen, but anything that surfaced in that calm was so clear. She couldn’t help but feel similarly, or at least she thought she did. It was easy sometimes to be influenced unknowingly by the emotions around her. But after … well after the way they had flowed together, Sharah hoped it was more. She bit her bottom lip trying unsuccessfully not to blush at her own thoughts.

Fayth

For the moment, Mark took his time, though one could only slow-walk so far in a flying tin can. Stopping at one of the doors, showing his name on the plate. “This is me,” he said, and slipped inside, drawing her in. An Ensign’s quarters weren’t bad, but a senior officer had significantly more room, though it was by no means spacious. The walls were just off white. The furnishings were sleek and dark with cool blue and indigo accents. Soft fill lights glowed along the walls here and there. A couple of landscape paintings adorned the walls, along with photographed vistas of home. Several drawings on old school paper lay on one of the tables next to a sketch book and digital drawing pad.

Sharah was incredibly content in the stillness. There was no silence. She didn’t know what silence was, not on a personal level. But the stillness was comfortable. She looked at him as they arrived at his door. She squeezed his hand slightly as he pulled her in behind him. These were bigger than hers, but no where as big as what had been on Ark Angel. It reminded her that Viking was smaller, and that was good for her.

Sharah took it n the art work and photographs. She hadn’t sketches her n a long time. Maybe she should start again. The last thing she’d done was for Tabris.

There was an area that looked designated for eating with a small table and chair set partitioned off from the main common room, next t the small replicator. Opposite end of that was an advanced looking workstation with a large display behind it. In the middle section of the room was a large seating area with comfortable couches next to large windows giving a nice view of the stars. It was mostly orderly and neat, but still seemed lived in, and while efficient on space, comfortable and cozy.

“So… You should know, you’re the first person to set foot in here, to my knowledge, since I came aboard. Including the old Viking.”

Mark

‘Then I promise to be on my best behavior, and be an ideal guest.‘ She smiled softly at him.

Markus shook his head. ‘No need. Mi casa su casa.‘ Even if she didn’t know the words, specifically, the concept came through clearly enough. She was welcome to make herself at home. Though she would probably be reserved for now.

“If you want command, then go after it. If you want to study stellar cartography, your CSO, go but into the lab and have fun. If you want command, transfer tracks. Life is far too short to do something you don’t want or love. That’s why I am here on Viking. I gave up what I loved....and made huge mistakes. So time to go back to what I am good at and what I love.” She flushed, “Sorry, I guess I’m still finding my feet again.” She looked around suddenly feeling awkward for what to do or say, and her eyes landed on the sketch book and digital pad. “I’ve never drawn digitally, always with paper. Do you like one over the other?”

Fayth

“I guess in a lot of ways I’m still trying to figure out what I really want out of my career. So much has changed since I joined up.” He sighed softly.

“Like what?” Sharah was genuinely curious. She was aware of the device that had awakened his psyonic abilities. That would significantly change things, but she was curious if he meant that or something different. Her own career was so much different than it was when she graduated a year and a half ago. But it was her and not Star Fleet that had changed. She sat in a chair facing where he was working rather than standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“When I went in, I thought I knew what I wanted. My second posting and third cruise… And everything went sideways. I feel off track, and pulled in half a dozen directions. And I know I could make any of them work. Before, I was following what I thought was right, a calling. Now? I dunno.Especailly after the last tours on the Viking. Not even sure which way is up anymore half the time. Figuratively speaking.”

Sharah fought with her own focus. Most of the time the noise was so intense she didn’t process what was said or felt, like trying to hear one voice on the opposite end of an in arena filled with thousands. But let her mind search for a topic and thoughts of that topic were amplified. She did not, at any time need to be drawn into the nightmare memories of the entire crew.

Meanwhile, if it hadn’t been noticed before… an aroma of cooking food had filled his quarters, and the humidity was higher, and the heat a little too, but nothing unpleasant. He made his way over to the small cooking and eating area he’d set up and pulled a container off of a hot plate, opening the lid. Steam rolled out, and very quickly he added some of his score from the arboretum, stirring in fresh herbs. Then from the replicator he fetched flour and replicated egg, and went to making a dough.

“The thing about pencil and paper is that… it’s just you, the pencil, the paper, and your skills. It’s very raw. But you can do a lot. Digital is .. nigh unlimited. You can do aaaanything. It only takes time and know-how. Sometimes there are traps special to digital that you don’t find in traditional media.” he shrugged as he worked the dough some more, getting it ready.

“In the end, I like them both for different reasons,” he mused. “What about you?”

Sharah listened and ‘listened’ while he talked. But at the same time there were moments of distraction. If paying attention he would know her attention never fully left the conversation, but it was split. Physically it would show in far away looks or even a tilt or turn of the head like she had heard something else where in the room. Except once, her attention totally gone as she flinched noticeably, and her hands raised to her temples. And then the force of will it took to push above the noise and remain there.

The man watched her for a few moments, seeing her struggle a little, but said nothing of it, staying cool and calm. Once she started to get back on top of things, he called her over, ostensibly to help him out, but really, give her something else to focus on.

Within short order, he’d created a simple dough, which he started rolling out and trimming in large, flat sheets. This he layered into the pan with different sauces and fillings, until he had the entire dish ready to go, then added it to a convection cooking system as they talked. If she wanted to help, he’d direct her to help with the layering process, and then feeding stuff they were done with back into the replicator for recycling while he cleaned up the mess from prep, not that there was much. He was neat and cleaned as he went.

Mark

It took a moment before she answered his question, to make sure she hadn’t missed something during that momentary lapse. She did indeed offer to help. Physical activity was helpful. It grounded her and gave a focus point, rather than being lost in her head. She layered as he directed and cleaned as she went. That was a familiar habit for her. Leaving messes when you could be severely distracted could be hazardous.

“I learned to draw when I was 4. It was part of my…” Sharah sighed. Such a heavy topic for…what was this-a date? Well whatever it was it was a heavy topic, but her life was a heavy topic. “It was part of my recovery when I was in the hospital. The doctors had me draw what I had heard and seen before the mindstorm that put me there. I was too young to describe, to explain or understand what had happened. Even now it’s…” ‘it’s terrifyingly intense to remember what happened that day.‘ “But I have a little talent and then was taught a lot of skill. It is one of the therapy techniques that has grown to be more. I have only ever used paper and pencils. I’ve never wanted to try a different media. Though I enjoy art of all types.”

Fayth

Heavy topic indeed. But he listened with silent encouragement and interest, judgement free. And he wasn’t sure what to call it either, though the idea of a date had crept into mind much earlier. For now, he was just going with the flow and what felt natural or right. As she finished, he nodded with a small smile. “Well, that makes a lot of sense. Great thing about digital is it can mimic almost everything else. And it’s not as messy,”he said, gently bumping her with his shoulder and a wry smile. Gently teasing her once more, he was. Trying to lighten her spirits.

He was teasing her again! Sharah flushed softly and laughed, it wasn’t loud or boisterous, but genuine and a truly happy sound. “The mess helps.” [She liked his smile.]

“Does it,” he asked, returning her smile. Hers wasn’t bright but still dazzling somehow and warmed him to the core. His question was both earnest and still teasing. “Are we talking about graphite-on-fingers messy, or smudgy smearyness? Or just general sketchy and rough linework?” Technical questions, maybe, but they would tell him a little more about her, and perhaps shed a little more light on all things Sharah.

Making his way over to a small cabinet, he pulled out a glass and then filled it from a decanter with a couple fingers of amber liquid. Turning back around he tilted his head. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s going to take about forty minutes for that to bake.” Sure it was a little bit of a wait, but some things were worth waiting for and taking the time.

Mark

She sat on one end of the couch turned slightly so she could still see him as he moved around the room. “Just ice water.” The amount of time did not create any stress but it smelled really good and there was anticipation at getting to try it.

Nodding, he made his way over to replicator and grabbed a glass of water with ice, then brought it over to her. “Here you go.” Tucking one foot under him he sat in the space next to her, turned more toward her, whiskey glass in hand.

“What was your calling then? I can ‘see’ the things you are good at, that you enjoy, but they don’t seem to....fulfill…provide what you need for yourself. Maybe a little bit…” She was probably talking out of turn and not aware of it. She was taking information she had cleaned from his thoughts but not spoken aloud.

Fayth

A heavy sigh escaped him as he cast his stormy gray gaze around his quarters. For a time he said nothing, out loud at least. But thought, feeling, and even memory poured from him. He knew he had potential, but wasn’t sure he lived up to it. Despite his accomplishments. There was an invisible moving goal post. Perfectionism. Self-criticism. Nobody else had those things to say, only the pressure that he put on himself. Markus knew he could branch out into any section of Starfleet, or anything really. He had the mind for it. And his interests were so vast and varied. Trying to pick just one or two felt so limiting. He wasn’t sure that would ever leave him feeling fulfilled, satisfied, professionally.

Except maybe she had a point about Command. It was possible that there, he could do the most good. The other options were to invent something, cure a disease, discover a new phenomenon. While he fully intended to do what he could for Sharah and others like her… the condition was rare. Finding a way to treat it would be amazing, of course. A true achievement.

Maybe he was still chasing his father’s ghost? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was that he hadn’t actually solved anything or been useful in the year or so he’d been on the Viking, either version. Had he lost his edge, his nerve?

What really got him out of bed, when he thought about it… wasn’t art. Wasn’t going to the lab. Or research. It was… duty. Commitment. Obligation. Not that those things were a bright spot in his life. Honor, integrity. He’d joined up for a term of service, and he had a job to do. And he was most alive when he could make a difference. Whehter helping cure a disease for some colonists like his own family. Or under pressure in a phaser fight with raiders and marauders.

Excitement. Adventure. A Jedi craves not these things, he reminded himself silently.

All in all, everything was so tangled and intertwined, it was much like the tightly packed roots with the plants in the arboretum.

Mark