Star Trek: Apollo

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Post 15 - Unwelcome Isolation

Posted on Sat Dec 14th, 2019 @ 10:06pm by Commander Niun

Mission: Episode 0 - War Games
Location: CEO Quarters - Lt. Commander Niun
Timeline: Mission Day 02 - 1100 hours

[USS Apollo - Deck 2]
[CEO Quarters - Lt. Commander Niun]
[Mission Day 02 - 1100 hours]

A short while later, Niun found his way to his quarters to begin the task of settling in. He had chosen minimalist Japanese decor because it fit most closely with his own preferences. A king-sized futon mattress on the floor topped with a cluster of pillows and warm inviting blankets, done in muted grays with touches of black and blue, a necessity for someone bred to a desert climate that had chosen to live his life on board a ship, with a large tatami mat as a floor covering. The closet fit seamlessly into the bulkhead with a place to hang clothes as well as a small set of drawers. At the head of the bed, the wall was covered by wooden boards, set a few inches apart, that leant a bit of warmth to the room as did the low tables to either side of the bed.

Settling in gave this place an unwelcome permanence which was why he had avoided it until now. Niun put away those things that he had brought with him and felt as he did so, that he was betraying himself by owning anything at all. A warrior owns the weapons he has made. Nothing more. Even these quarters. It was a perplexing thing, the way so many worlds preferred to remain isolated when they slept. The Mri were much more sensible and it was in these moments, when he entered this solitary place, his quarters, that he missed his people the most.

Head covering tossed to one side, his sword in easy reach, so that he could chase the young ones, shrieking with delight, threading in and out among the Amrazi who were readying the evening meal. Bits of food stolen from the platters and cooking pots, amid easy laughter, and then, later, dropping to the ground to share the meal with the people, his 'edun'. In those days, the Moaku were storytellers who came to the central fire willingly; he preferred that to the somber secret keepers who would one day steal his world. Nabok had been one, protesting dramatically as he sunk to the ground in a flurry of robes, children clustered around him, while he ate and told the old stories. Later, there would be music and the Azhadi would slip away unnoticed to seek the comfort found in the Amrazi tent, tiny alcoves with warm furs and willing hands, before returning to the fire. The Azhadi were one, in battle, in training, in pleasure, and in sleep; he missed the sounds of their breathing, the rumbling snores, the warmth of a life shared. Even now.

Bayre was still asleep on the bed. A comfort. The sound of the dusei's breathing, the solid bulk of his presence, made sleep possible, even now, years after being forced from his world. He smiled at Bayre who sent a short flow of images, all of sleeping dusei, before heading back into the main room. The Mri did not use chairs but preferred instead to sit on the ground and that theme was reflected in the main room as well. The room was dominated by a wide, round table set low enough that one could sit properly. Sometimes on a soft pillow and often just cross-legged on a hand-woven rug. At the center of the table was a fire bowl, hot enough to heat water, but with safeguards built in to prevent damage to the ship.

He spent a few minutes putting together a pot of spiced tea and set it near the fire to heat before sitting down to prepare the memo as the Captain had asked.

You asked me why.
You asked for a reason.
Because I can.
If I could not, I would say that.
I do not lie.

Satisfied, he sent the memo on to the Captain and turned his attention to deeper matters, articles and reports that dealt with the ship and the technology aboard while he drank a cup of tea. He would return to Engineering shortly but a cup of tea, made in the old way, was a welcome bit of comfort in this unwelcome isolation.

A mission post by

Lt. Commander Niun
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Apollo

 

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