Star Trek: Eventide 777 - ens-bierstadt﹢chet

To: Cdt. Hopper Bienstadt From: Lt. Ughaz'udan Report to my office in the constabulary ring at your earliest convenience.

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[PADD] @HoD Khayl'sh, Daughter of K'Emir (Ma Ching-ling)

Hello, is your offer to practice my empathic skills with you still open? If so, feel free to drop in the #bioscience-lab. Or anywhere else if you think you'd be more comfortable in another area. - Lieutenant JG. Melaara Zeatraan

[PADD] @Ensign Emin Jessil (Melaara Zeatraan)

It is still open. I will be dropping by as soon as I can, expect me there soon. - Ensign Ma Ching-ling

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[PADD] @HoD Khayl'sh, Daughter of K'Emir

I appreciate it, I'll see you soon Ensign - Junior Lieutenant Melaara Zeatraan

[D] A courier left a Secret Santa gift outside of these quarters for Ensign Hopper Bienstadt. It was a wide yellow box. Inside of the box was a model kit for a fully functioning version of a Sommerville class ship, just like the Eventide. Atop the model kit was a note from the sender. “-Dear Hop, I could never really figure these types of things out but I figured you would enjoy it. -CoS Austin Whidbey”

[D] Not long after, another courier left a gift outside of the same quarters, but for the other roommate, Ma Ching-ling. Inside there was this beautiful tea set made out of marbled red and black ceramic with golden details all over it, including handmade markings and surprisingly grammatically correct phrases in Chinese. On top of it, there was a handwritten note from the one who made it and it read: "I didn't know what you liked, so i hope you at least like this!" -Your secret Santa

Hop emerged from her quarters with a... rather small box wrapped in plain, brown paper. From what she'd read in Gazis' file, she guessed that he wasn't much for frills or flourishes. It was decorated with a twine 'ribbon' tied in a neat little bow and a small gift tag with a picture of a holly sprig on it. Nothing fancy, but still quite pretty, in a simple way. As she rolled out into the hall, she noticed the gifts set outside the door. Well, perhaps notice wasn't the right word. She nearly rolled them over! Hop quickly inspected the one she'd nearly crushed, it was for her, thankfully, and relocated them to the coffee table in the common area. Then she headed out.

[D] Hop was in her room with Five Finger Death Punch blasting when the comm went out. It was a wonder she heard it at all! She was in the process of assembling a rather tiny anti-grav system to be used in the internal gyroscope of the Academy's prototype battle bot. It was a delicate process, using lots of teeny-tiny wires and tweezers and a soldiering iron the size of a pin. she finished up her work and flicked away the large magnifying glass she was peering through to see her work. She wiped her hands on a rag and changed into a uniform. Duty calls!

To tell the truth, despite appearances, Zoe hadn't really gotten used to her own body. Getting pushed together with some other 'augmented' person just felt awkward. Was she going to have to talk about her feelings with some stranger? It was uncomfortable in theory, and she wasn't even sure that she could do it in person. Zoe paused for a moment, in the turbolift, as she rested one of her many hands upon her chin, while her lower two arms braced against the railing. "Never going to get used to this. Not in a hundred years." A tired sounding sigh escaped her vocabulator, her voice being just modulated enough to sound distinguishably inhuman. It was another moment of anxiety, before Zoe pushed off of the wall, opened the elevator doors, and started to walk. "Just get through this. And then..." And then what? The thought was discarded, as Zoe marched toward Ensign Xenon's quarters. "Okay. Just get it over with." The Cyborg mumbled, angrily, before knocking her metal knuckles against the door in front of her.

Xenon was entirely unsure about the meeting. Both the notion that someone equally augmented would provide some sort of comfort or enlightenment, and that they were unassimilated. They knew nothing of the concurrent issues, rather, they had one thing in common. As if they said 'oh look! They're both metal! be friends!' The knocking caused the door to open soon after, revealing a strangely abandoned common area normally shared between the two quarter-occupants. It looked like it was rarely used. However, if Zoe looked to the two doors- she'd see a picture of order and chaos respectively. Both doors closed, one like had music BLASTING from the inside, with a sharp smell of oil and grease. The other, entirely silent, pristine, and motionless. Xenon stepped towards the latter, opening the door to reveal a spotless interior, with no real accessories or additional items. The bed looked timeless. Untouched. Xenon brushed a hand against her shaved head, her voicebox lighting up as she spoke a single time. "Take a seat." her honeycombed mechanical eye darting to the open chair.

As Zoe stepped through the boundary, and entered into the common room. "... Very empty." The Synthetic voiced her observation, as she stood there. Some early twenty first century music caught her attention for a second - before the noise was pushed out of focus, when Xenon opened her door. If the common room was empty, this was definitely a blank void it took a moment for Zoe to realize that she had been staring - rather rudely, in fact. "Sorry, just got kinda mesmerized by how clean this place is. It's a good feeling." Zoe murmured, before moving inside - and taking a seat on the bed. "I feel like if the Federation changed anything about interior color schemes, they should swap the interior grays for white. It'd be less boring." Awkwardly, Zoe shifted a bit. "I'm Zoe. I'm a Cyborg. Like...all of me is metal and uh...silicone stuff. I could technically bend metal if my strength wasn't inhibited." It was honestly for the best - she didn't need to really be hurting anyone without meaning to, and crushing metal would out a lot of strain on her hands and arms - which would mean more maintenance trips. "I uh... haven't ever met a Borg before. Hi. I guess."

"Noted." She said the words without a hint of emotion, somewhat more robotic than Zoe- at least in the form of the words used. Simply... moving. She tilted her head a little before she turned to her left, and then promptly sat on the front of the bed, her hands folded gently into her lap as she stared forward. "So it seems. Scanning... Somewhat. This eye isn't as helpful for that anymore. Not when disconnected." She had a habit of never referring to herself. Never saying 'I' or 'Me' in any way. Often translating onto the other end as well- never mentioning someone as an individual. "Xenon. Correction: Not a borg. Liberated Borg. Borg's are... absorbed, subsumed, into a collective. Eliminated- from individuality. Eventually, all thoughts and memories are scattered. Think of it... like a drop of red dye in water. More water is added until the red is no longer available to be seen. The little bits of the red are carried far, far away from eachother. Eventually so far that the original mind no longer exists. Pulled back is... different. Xenon, diligent. Old designation: Too wordy... Still getting used to existing as a single entity. Being... unique. Modifications- heavy modifications on the body were done to better utilize skillset- as well as attempt to 'fix' neurodivergence. Unsuccessful."

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Zoe blinked a bit - as much as her LED lit-eyes allowed her to, anyways. It was a moment before she found herself uncomfortable. Honestly, she knew that some borg were liberated, but...seeing them felt weird. Like looking at herself thinly, through the looking glass. Recognizing the signs of anxiety, Zoey turned outward - shaking her head, as she tried to ground herself. "I don't really understand. I mean. I don't really know what you want me to say about that. If I were a techie, I might know more about uh...whatever yer talking about." Zoe shot a pair of finger guns toward Xenon, before following it up with her top pair of her hands shooting successive 'finger guns'. It was all very silly looking. And then things get progressively dark from there on out. While Zoe listens to Xenon go on at length about being in the collective, all Zoe hopes is that she doesn't get too deep into the specifics. Zoe is left a little agitated toward the end of the Ensign's story. "Neuro...divergence. That's uh..." Even she wasn't neurotypical. Being made of metal didn't change that. "That's a lot, I guess." She manages, before shaking her head. "That's kinda fucked up."

Blink. Blink. Her head tilted somewhat more before she resumed a straight posture, remaining silent as the other woman spoke. Xenon looked reminiscent of a doll, that way her skin seemed segmented, artificial yet real- just... getting used to being that way again. "Hm." She offered, falling silent again. "Don't expect... you to understand, no. It's- simply explaining it in the simplest terms possible. The self is torn apart. The self doesn't exist in the body anymore. It becomes a shell for something else to control. But it CAN be disconnected. Taken back. The self, the person before, controls the body... but if enough time passes- that person does not exist. The self is absorbed. Until it cannot exist as one person. A brick can be taken from a wall, but what if the bricks are melted together? That is what it is like to be a borg- for over ten years... Memories- no memories of a former life. Nothing. No personality: Nothing..." "Unsure as to why... this meeting was needed. Both are different- too different."

Zoe felt awkward. To say this was going poorly wasn't exactly a shocker. Sure, the meeting made sense on paper. They were both weird and artificial, and apparently people thought being borg was the same as being a cyborg - something she had quickly grown tired of, just by thinking of it. Did people really think she was anything like this weirdo? The thought just depressed her, silently. "Wow, thanks, I hate that. I hate hearing about that. That's fucking awful." Yeah, maybe that reaction was a little uncalled for, but some part of her couldn't help but bristle against the experience that had just been described for her. Zoe wrings her hands together, the rubber bits of her palms rubbing against the metal surface of her wrists. "I don't really get why we were pushed together. We aren't even...similar. We both got robot bits, and apparently people think that's enough. It's dumb. I hate this. I actually fucking hate this." And maybe part of it was the thought of actually finding someone who understood. All this was, was a waste of time. An exercise in futility.

"Because it was personally requested." Her tone dulled once more and she suddenly stood up, marching to the left of the room, before moving to the door, opening it, and then moving to the common area door, opening that as well. "Unsure how someone like that got into Starfleet. Not even the augmentations. Personality. Speech." "Please. Leave. The meeting is over. Overstayed welcome. Filing complaint later..."

"Oh. Oh no. I said -" Oh. Well, now she just feels like an asshole. "Fuck." Fine, fuck it. Fuck this. Quickly, the cyborg gets to her feet, and starts to leave. Then the borg started speaking again, and it left her feeling enraged. It was all she could do to keep walking. This was just going to be another bad memory. Even as bad as it felt right now, it was just going to be a bad memory later. This wasn't worth getting into an altercation over. Quickly, Zoe's footsteps hurried, as she all but fled from the dormitory wing.

She watched Zoe leave, watching the expression then from worried to anger. Anger... she elicited anger? At the person who came into her dorm and treated the idea as useless? She had been unsure about the idea- but she herself requested it. She wanted to try and help someone. She wanted to try and get an outside perspective. Other than the borg. She sat down, her hands resting upon her legs. Something dropped on her hand. She looked down at them, confused... and then it hit her. Tears. Falling from her eyes, she closed them, unsure of how to feel. Of what to feel. What to do? She froze, feeling the tears fall. She didn't know what to do.

Hop had spent a rather long time in her room working and reworking mockups from sketches of a small magnetic battery charger for the last few hours. It was menial and redundant, she knew, but good practice nonetheless. But she had eventually grown bored, so she shut off her music, washed her hands, and came out of her room. "Oh, hey!" Hop called cheerfully to the person seated on the sofa, but then noticed the way they were sitting. She knew almost right away what was going on. She'd sat like that many times, hiding tears she refused to let her brother see. "You're Xenon, right? My roomie? What's up?" She asked in a lower, gentler tone. She rolled her wheelchair over and parked it close to her roommate. After a moment of digging, she found a handkerchief in one of her many pockets. It was clean, if a little rumpled. She offered it to Xenon.

Xenon was a little confused. She, of course, had seen her roommate. Probably without hopper knowing- was that stalking? Either way, her shaved head had a hand pressed to it, gripping tightly on some of the borg technology. As if she contemplated just ripping it out. Her hands were segmented, artificial in skin- and yet not. As if they were laminated or dipped in wax. Her throat, however, was the most modified, now entirely mechanical- her whole neck was encompassed, with a speaker much like her honeycomb-esque mechanical eye, which fit right into her socket. Not over, or attatched. She spoke without moving her mouth. "No, to the... cloth. It's fine. Therapy attempt went... unsuccessfully." She played back the last few seconds: not from recording, rather, her throat mimicked both Zoe's voice and Xenon's, playing the prior events before she let out a mechanical sigh. "Lack of emotional control. That is all. Borg connection removed emotions and knowledge of them. Simply... adapting, once more. Reapplying them. Feeling them."

"Emotions are hard," Hop nodded in agreement, putting the unwanted handkerchief in her lap, just in case, "Especially when you don't want them. I'm so sorry it went like that." She placed a hand gently on one of Xenon's hands, "It really hurts in a bad way when you open yourself up to someone, and you get rejected like that."

She froze, when a hand was placed into hers. She seemed to fixate, her eyes lowering to glare at them before she moved her hand- and leg, at the same time to avoid the hand just flopping into her leg. She clenched her hand after, turning it over and pressing it against the sofa, slowly dragging it across the fabric. "Please. Ask. Touch is hypersensitive. Neurodivergence. Autism." She drug her hand against the Sofa once more as her eyes closed, marking the 'acoustic' wheelchair, as some might say. "Please."

"Oh! Oh, I didn't know! I'm sorry!" Hop said, quickly backing herself up to give Xenon space. Being crowded, especially by someone you didn't know after a bad experience was never good. Hop didn't know how to make Xenon more comfortable, so she just waited for a moment to let her adjust. "Is there anything that would help you feel better?" She asked, eventually.

"It's... fine. Well- no. It... isn't- but it... is. Does that make sense? Aware- it was... accidental. didn't mean to. You're learning..." She paused, for a moment, her hands crossing together before she leaned forward, contemplating both the question and Bierstadt's wish to help. "Yes... something. Getting to know eachother." She sat upright, her honeycombed eyes gazing forward. "Obviously... uncomfortable with touch." She gestured to herself. She had quite the habit of never referring to someone as 'you' or to herself as 'I' or in any specific way. "Start there... What to do. What not to do. To better make us comfortable living in a shared space."

“Yeah, it’s not okay. My family was always very touchy-felt, so it’s just kinda instinct for me.” Hop explained apologetically, rubbing the back of her neck. “I like giving hugs. I’ll do my best to keep it to myself. I’m really sorry!” “I’m pretty easy to get along with. I can’t stand lying, though. If ya don’t wanna talk about it, then just say so, kay? Other than that, I don’t mind if you use my stuff or leave a mess. Heaven knows I leave a mess everywhere I go!” She smiled, “So long as we clean the shared room once a week, it should be all good!”

"Know, now. That way- it can be prevented." Her head tilted once more, almost mechanical in fashion. Each movement articulated like clockwork, or like a doll or toy set in motion. The notion that Hopper left a mess elicited a mechanical-sounding laugh from her voicebox. It was an attempt to sound natural- but at the same time, she didn't even open her mouth. She instead gestured to her open room, the door still left unclosed from Barnes' vacating movement. It was utterly spotless. Entirely perfect. Barren of all but the basics, and perfectly kept. "order. Cleaning. Hobbies. Do not take advantage, please. Lying- difficult, at least now. Hard to formulate reasons why. Hard to understand and emulate REAL emotions and thoughts. Let alone false disguises."

She glanced back at her own room, whose door was currently jammed open slightly by a uniform Hop had left on the floor yesterday. “I’ll try to keep the tornado in my room.” She smiled with a little shame, “So touching and messes are bad. Anything else I should know? Like… what’s your favorite treat? What do you do to relax after a stressful day? I like to take long, hot baths with lots of bubbles!”

Her eyebrow raised just a little as she brushed her hand to her shaved head, contemplating if she should go over and fix it. She rose, gently reaching out and plucking the shirt from it's confines by the door, before setting it on a table. "it's fine... it can be worked on. Together. Something to... do, to help. To be friends." As for her favorite treat, her shoulders simply shrugged. "textures and taste can be very overwhelming. Hypersensitivity and a lack of flavor and food for over ten years. Still... attempting to see. Stress is managed by cleaning. Or simply... utilizing the small, stuffed bear in the room."

"Aww!! I have a teddy bear too! Though mine's not a bear. Hang on!" Hop grabbed the uniform and zoomed into her room, re-emerging seconds later with a fluffy, stuffed stegosaurus with blue glass eyes. "His name is Brody, and he was my best friend for a lot of years." She grinned. "His leg fell off once and all the beans came spilling out, so I had to learn to sew to fix him."

She shrugged once more, watching the enthusiastic human zip away. She subtly wondered about the incident that lead to that chair. Let alone one so low technology. The stegosaurus elicited a small smile from Xenon, who delicately raised her hand, not touching the toy, but simply as if she were doing so by proxy. "Notable... stitching is quite well done. All the stuffing still inside... incredible." Her oriental lineage often made her inquisitive gaze sharp and somewhat akin to a dagger- but she wasn't meaning to glare. Simply... inspecting. Eventually, her voicebox rang out again. "The... choice of seating. Is it... difficult? Have the medical staff asked to try and... fix it, as some say? Similar questions were asked in regards to... augmentations. Unfortunately some were so intertwined with flesh and neural systems that removal would be lethal. Others... simply because it felt incorrect.' She gestured to her honeycombed eye, rather than an unnoticeable one. "Strange... how some things must be done slowly. Like waves, on a beach. To get comfortable. To... achieve it."

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"Thanks!" She smiled brightly, "I don't know what I'd do without Brody. He's one of my very favourite things." "Oh, this old thing?" Hop patted the side of her wheelchair, "I'm in the Chariot by choice. I was born with a spinal deformation called spina bifida. It caused me to lose most function in my legs. I can still crutch around, but standing on my own is a no-go," She explained, "The doctors definitely could have made me better; given me a new spine and helped me learn to walk. I decided that I don't need fixing. I'm not broken. I'm exactly how I am meant to be." She gave Xenon a big smile. She was still confident that she'd made the right choice all those years ago. Sure, it could be a pain. She had to do exercises each night before bed that hurt like the devil. She couldn't run around and have fun the same way others could. But this was her challenge. She loved it and saw it as a way to prove that she could do anything she wanted to. "The wheelchair is a bit of a longer story. I had an accident with my hoverchair and a big 'ole magnet a few years back. Don't trust 'em anymore. I like having my wheels planted firmly on the ground." "Xenon, do you feel like you need fixing?" Hop asked in a gentler tone.

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She paused, for a moment, pondering the situation Hopper seemingly kept herself in... somewhat similar to her own, in the sense that both were offered keys to a life entirely without it- to some extent. But... it wouldn't be right, would it? "That's understandable. Sometimes... things are- meant, to be the way they are. Sometimes it can be... older, or, outdated but- it works. It's right... Why take a new, perfectly made eye when the one already there is... good enough. To suddenly fix problems- to erase the things they instilled- perhaps... negatively impacting. Or... not." Another pause, xenon's head shaking. "Lots of views... lots. Some others state that it's entirely needed. Others... not. But- the person from before assimilation is gone. No memories. No personality traits... just echoes, for now. To erase all of that- trying to bring something back that's not there... erases me along with it." One of the rare times she referred to herself in a sentence. "There... could be a way. Why not make something? To assist with walking? Braces, for the legs, connected to a support, on the back. Made by... you. One foot, after the other. Braces lock to keep upright. Support-pillar on the back to help with standing up. Could be.. a little project to make."

"Sometimes you just have to start with what you've got. You add things that you like, and take away the things you don't, and eventually you make something!" Hop said with a compassionate smile. She was describing her creative process when designing a new robot, but she'd found that it applied to a personality too. She'd spent a lot of years trying to get rid of her abandonment anxiety. It still haunted her frequently, but she'd learned how to manage it for the most part. She'd done it by focusing on what she liked about herself, assured that if she liked those things, others would too. "I have thought about making myself an exoskeleton, but the issue isn't just loss of function, it's that my spine can't actually carry my weight all on it's own. I gotta put most of my weight on my crutches even when I'm just standing, or it could break." She explained, "I've just decided that I'll never walk like normal people, and that's fine! I can do so many other things!"

"Quite smart... and profound for the age... young- though, age is subjective to wisdom." She pondered the idea, the notions behind it- the somewhat philosophical level that came with it as well. Rather nice, all in all. Though it was a little sad to see that Hopper couldn't really design her own way out of the situation, her viewpoint was refreshing. "Indeed... Things that others can't do... That-" She paused, not wanting to say 'I' again. "Can't be done by..." Her hand loosely gestured to the side, indicating she was trying to reference herself. "Normal does not exist." She stated, firmly, a loose smile to her thin lips. "Normal is subjective- normal for one... a cube, full of drones. Units. All within one mind. Normal for another- a small, stuffed earthen dinosaur." She extended her hand, giving permission for Hopper to take it. "Thank...you."

She smiled brightly, and took Xenon's hand. "You can call me Hop, since personal pronouns are hard." She said, "And thanks! I like to imagine i'm pretty smart." She laughed. "I'm glad we got to talk."

"It's needed. To learn again. Used to a collective mind, still." She sighed, here mouth actually parting for once, rather than the noise just being emulated from her voicebox. Her actual voice seemed a lot lighter, somewhat akin to a mouse, rather than the cold, yet feminine tone that came from her modifications. Was that her doing? Did she want to sound like that. "Likewise... Likewise. It has been helpful." She rose from her seat and looked towards the door. "Need to file things... Please... feel free to- talk, again." And with that, off she went.

She waved goodbye to her new friend enthusiastically, then went to put Brody back on her bed. She looked around the room. There were clothes scattered around, a pair of colorful, green sneakers sat on her wardrobe shelf. A couple of half-completed robots lay on the desk and floor with their circuitry spilling out in various directions. A scattering of nuts lay on the floor, just waiting for bare feet to step on them. A number of PADDs were stacked by the comfy armchair, which had a ginormous narwhal plush and a fluffy blanket draped over it in the seat. A large D-ring binder lay in one corner with pages of notes around it, along with a collection of wrinkled blueprints rolled up and rubber-banded together. The walls were a cacophony of photographs, sketches, blueprints, and random things Hop had collected over the years. ... Maybe it could use a little cleaning. She collected a pile of used uniforms from in front of the wardrobe and stuck it in the reclaimator. Then she headed back out. She had a shift in a few minutes!

FROM: Dich TO: Chet, Niatha REGARDING: I hope I spelled your name right

Um, hey, Niatha! It's me, Dich, the baker? I was wondering...did you want to maybe get tea with me sometime?

By now the Cardassian had returned to her quarters to rest before the next day; seeing the message arrive, however, she couldn't help but giggle and message back:

Hey. I'd love to. When and where? ~Nia

If it's not too forward, my quarters at 0800?

I'll be there! Seeya! ;) ~Nia

Following this the Cardassian sprung to her feet and ran off to change out of uniform and into something casual.

Following a quick PADD exchange Niatha waited nervously in her quarters, hands folded neatly in her lap, staring at the door. Just apologize and offer some compensation - that was what she needed to do. Right?

Eshen entered with his hair tied up, unlike how it was earlier. "You wanted to see me?"

"Hey, Eshen, I." Niatha bit her lip. "I'm sorry for pushing you off to the side like that. It really wasn't very nice of me - even if I was very drunk..." Then she glanced up at him from the sofa, meeting his eyes. "How can I make it up to you?"

Eshen sat down beside her. "Nia, I'm not that mad. It's fine." Kind of a lie? He was still mad, but it was only because he knew he was going to spend the next day at least trying to figure out what he did wrong and how he could fix himself, which was a deeper issue that a drunk Nia had no awareness of whatsoever. "Just, next time there's a third, try to split the attention three ways."

"I'll try." Reaching over she offered him a hug, seeming to watch him closely.

Eshen returned the hug stiffly, rose from the sofa, then immediately fell back onto it. He rubbed his temples. "Ah. Now the shots hit."

"Can I get you something?" She laid her hand on his arm, emerald eyes searching him for... what exactly was she searching for exactly? An affliction she as a science officer could do little to fix? "How can I be of help?"

Eshen observed her observing him with a curious expression. What was she searching for? "Um... Water would be nice."

To help tide over the hangover, she presumed. She scurried over to the replicator and returned with a cup of water, which she gently folded his hands around. "Here."

Eshen furrowed a brow at the gentle intimacy of the gesture. "You don't have to handle me like a feral animal, you know. I told you, I'm not mad."

"I just don't want you to drop it is all. It's the least I can do as a friend... right?" She released him afterward, settling at his side on the sofa.

Oh, is that the kind of assurance she needed? He could do that. "I fully intend to drop neither the glass nor our potential friendship." Eshen sipped his water.

That wasn't really what she'd been going for - but it was reassurance nonetheless, reassurance she would not pass up. "That's great." She said, "I'm glad. I just need to get better, is all..."

"At... Dividing your attention?" He asked. She seemed oddly upset about this. Maybe there's some deeper issue going on with her, too. Perhaps if he pries enough he can prise an answer out of her and... And what? Get what? Why do you think about people like this? Stop it. He stopped gripping the glass nearly hard enough to crack it and drank the rest, then stood up. "Alright. I'll be going, then."