Star Trek: Starbase 777 - lt-jg-t′she

They arrived at their new room in silence, walking quietly as to not disturb anyone they might have been sharing with. Of course, it seemed like they did not need to worry -- as they were alone. T'she did not know whether that was a good or bad thing. A room shared meant that they might form a bond with someone on the station rather quickly, however, at the same time, a singular room ensured that they would not come into conflict with anyone 'unlucky' enough to share a room with them. They decided that, perhaps, the most logical course of action might be to take this one step at a time, as things could always change, as things were always in flux. new people could arrive after all. They placed down their bags and sat on the bed, head in their hands, finally processing everything for a moment. A new position. Their transfer had been accepted. Maybe now they might be able to 'settle down' as some of their old friends used to say. T'she wondered how they might fit in, rubbing their temples as the worst possibilities clouded their mind.

T'she decided that the best thing to do would be to take a walk, perhaps they could get a better idea of life aboard the station, perhaps they could calm the nerves that were starting to bubble up within them. "No." They told themself off for thinking like that. They were supposed to be logical after all. Instead they rose from their place on the bed and walked out of their room.

Hal walked into the common area and collapsed on the couch. Theia, her cat, jumped on top of her and curled up on her chest. Hal was effectively stuck now. Oh well.

T'she entered their quarters, eyes closed as they pulled their lab coat off and hung it by the door. It needed washing -- but that could be done later. They were expecting to be alone when they opened their eyes, that had been the case when they left their quarters earlier after all. But it seemed, to their surprise, that it was not the case, as someone was on the common area couch, not only someone, but someone with an animal. The Nurse did not know what to think about that, but the least they could do was offer a nod in their new roommate's direction before they turned to enter their own personal area. They needed to change into something more comfortable. Which they did when they were sure they were in private. In the end, they returned to the common area, holding a cup of some tea that was steeping in a large mug.

When T’she returned from her private room, Hal turned to face her. Theia was still sleeping on her chest, which hindered her movements quite a bit. But Hal couldn’t just sit up and disturb the little guy, either. “Hi!”

T'she leaned against the wall of the common room, tall frame just slightly less imposing in the light -- and the fact that they were just slightly slumped from their sheer exhaustion. (Even if they had been trained for this, it was hard to be someone that they needed to focus to be. It was hard not to fall back on doctrine, on logic. They needed empathy and compassion, and those were practiced). It seemed that their new roommate was speaking to them, and thus, it was probably for the best that they engage in conversation in turn, but, they would take their time. They always took their time -- unless they could not, but that was another matter entirely. Finally, after a quick sip of the hot tea in front of them, they responded, voice almost flat and monotone -- a typical feature of their tired state. "Hello. We have not met. I deduce that you are my Roommate."

“I’m Halcyon, and yeah, you’re my roommate. Happy to meet you. Oh, and this is my cat, Theia.” She gestured to the fluffy white Persian cat on her chest. She wore thick glasses and had short and shaggy purple hair- but her dark brown roots were showing. She always straightened her hair, it was naturally curly.

T'she nodded, taking another sip of their tea and closing their eyes again, trying to enjoy it (they brewed it too long, a simple mistake, but not one that they made often, especially not now). The greenish brown liquid glimmered in the artificial light of the room as their square glasses slipped ever so slightly down their nose. Perhaps they should find a chair, a fleeting thought, but one acknowledged and acted upon. Soon enough they were seated, both hands cupping the warm mug, the heat making them feel at home. (It reminded them of their Grandfather, of making tea each evening to accompany dinner, of the different pairings the old man preferred. Even if it wasn't the same, it was still a little slice of Kyoto). Their eyes opened, and they looked warily at the cat, unsure what to make of it, however, it did not appear to be a threat, so it was soon dismissed in their mind to make room for more 'pressing' matters, matters such as their own introduction. "Tamura T'she. I am a nurse. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." They bowed their head in greeting, before another thought came to them. "Would you like some tea?"

“Yeah, tea sounds great. I’m tired from climbing through the jeffries tubes.” Of course, she was there with Renakir looking for people to help and also looking for his epohh. And she was in there before just checking out the place.

T'she nodded before they stood and exited the common room, walking over to their personal quarters to find the tea that they kept in a small chest. They thought, rather idly, that they should not keep so hidden, that maybe they should move it to the table beside their bed. Water was heated and placed carefully in another mug, after which, a strainer full of dark leaves -- specially chosen due to their supposed rejuvenating properties -- was added. To T'she, tea was important, it would always be important. They emerged a few minutes later, new mug of tea gently placed beside the couch as T'she returned to their spot on the chair to finish their own mug. "I... believe I understand your fatigue. I have been working beyond my scheduled shift in medical bay."

“I’m a pathologist myself.. Sickbay gets so hectic. Still, I like my job.” Despite having awful far-range vision, Hal’s job was to look at things. Though, her short-range vision was great. She could read a book but couldn’t read a faraway sign.

T'she nodded at this new information. Thinking that perhaps it was... nice... in a way. Their roommate was like them, someone in the medical department, in a way, they might be able to understand each other -- even if it was just a little. (T'she wondered if anyone would truly be able to understand them, they were lost between two worlds after all, never part of either). They puzzled over something for a moment. Why was a pathologist in the Jeffries Tubes? What business would one have there? A nurse, perhaps would have business there, especially if there was a medical emergency, but if they remembered correctly. A pathologist was a position that required more research-based pursuit. "If I may ask, why were you in the tubes?" They vocalized their thought, accompanied by a simple tilt of the head as they tried to understand -- even if it was none of their business.

“I was kidnapped and put in the brig by someone who snuck onto the station. We got let out, and I ended up going with a guy to look for his lost pet. That’s how I found myself in the tubes.” She wasn’t doing anything bad, not at all. Though the tubes were cool. She’d chill there again if she could.

While this explanation did little to actually make this situation make sense, per se, T'she knew when they were not going to get much more of an answer any time soon. They did not have many questions either -- especially considering what had happened earlier. They had to perform a surgery after all! T'she finished their tea and looked at some of the minimalist decorations that the room possessed-- perhaps they needed to acquire some new ones, small little things that they could hang up, perhaps some strips of fabric would suffice. "Someone entered sick bay holding an Epohh, that... was an event. I was not much paying attention." Their memory was fuzzy almost, it was almost like events were disconnected, small glimpses into a greater action.

“Hm, I’ll have to tell him about that. Maybe that was his epohh. Anyway, how long have you been on the starbase?” She’d been here for what, a month? It had been crazy. It was a blur. Ex-girlfriend, the Return of Lorin, and work. It was almost too much.

T'she thought for a moment, trying to recall how long they had been at the station, a few days at most? They had been there for the red alert, but not that much longer before that "I have been stationed here for approximately one week, if my calculations are correct. My perception of time has become ever so slightly blurred due to the Red Alert and its repercussions." They sighed as they rubbed their temples, leaning forward in their chair to rest on their elbows. It was rare to see them look so vulnerable, but that was just how tiredness hit them.

“I’ve been here for a few months now. Now, I’m preparing for the winter ball. I think I’m just going to wear a suit, I don’t do the whole dress thing.” Because Hal was butch, and so she wasn’t all that into feminine things. Really, she was more masculine and didn’t care for dresses or makeup. Besides concealer for the occasional unsightly pimple.

"The winder ball, I have heard that it was occurring. I need to prepare my own outfit... I believe I have a formal kimono that I could wear, though I may need to find a way to purchase some accessories for it." T'she nodded as they listened to Hal, hair falling in front of their eyes as they sat there for a while, rocking back and forth ever so slightly as they tried to think of what they brought with them to this new post. Their personal wardrobe had never been vast after all, mainly comprised of turtlenecks, hanten, and slacks. "Perhaps I shall wear makeup as well... I do have a rather fine green lipstick that goes rather nicely..." They were musing by this point, shaking their thoughts off before they leaned back in the chair once more. They themself were much more androgynous, never quite falling into one category or another. They wore what made them Neutral, an enigma.

“I’ve got a friend who says she’s going in a full-on ballgown. I wonder how that’ll turn out.” Ah, Lorin. She always went above and beyond to make sure everyone knew she didn’t give a shit about what was considered normal. Hal admired her for that. You fuck around with someone long enough, they snap and then you find out.

T'she nodded again, still wondering whether they should purchase a hair clip for their hair -- they could probably order one in time, or they might be able to have one made. Traveling merchants sometimes had the required skill sets, and, when it came down to it, a suitable hair clip was not essential. "I suppose it is a formal event, a ballgown would be suitable." They did not have much more to say on that, as they knew so few people on the station. Part of them wondered whether going to the ball itself would be a logical use of their time. After all, they could take an extra shift in the medical bay -- as there would most likely be someone who injured themself doing something... unwise.

“I’ve also got a friend who’s going in basically a miniskirt. I don’t think they got the fact that it’s formal into their head, to be honest.” C’Sara never liked anything floor-length, to be fair. Hal was wondering what exactly they were going to wear. Maybe they could pull it off.

They nodded again, looking off into the distance before they put down the mug of half empty tea and stretched, massaging the palm of their hand to try and release some of the tension that they were currently feeling. Even if they were not very stressed, their body reacted to stressful situations. They were known to tense up after all, and since it was over, they needed to try and relax in order to prevent any further complications from arising. "Formal Wear comes in different styles. What one considers formal might not match the definition of another."

“But it’s like.. black tie event though. Oh well, they’ll probably be hot as usual. I’m going to do my best to look even hotter.” Not that Hal wanted to be competitive, but she wanted to be stunning. She wasn’t the ethereal lady that was Lorin, nor the bold bitch that was C’Sara, but a secret third thing. A handsome little butch in her little suit with a top hat.

"It is not a competition. Especially when something as abstract as perceived attractiveness is what is being measured." Their words were measured, not chastising. In a way, they did not understand why someone may strive to be perceived as hotter than someone else. Customs like this, things driven by emotions, they never understood them. It was what had Detached them from their human half. They personally did not much care how they were perceived, at least, when it came to their appearance. They learned at a young age to ignore it, they would always look... different from their peers. Of course, they cared very much how they were perceived when it came to their abilities, but that, well, it was not currently a factor in their reasoning.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a friendly rivalry. C’Sara and I try to outdo each other all the time!” Thats how they had such good grades in the Academy! They were each trying to get better grades than the other. While also running faster, looking better, and being cooler than the other. It was all in good fun, though.

"Friendly... rivalry? Those concepts rarely intermix..." T'she continued to seem puzzled, touching their finger to their chin gently to better think of what might be occurring. When they did not get a handle on it they ran a hand through their hair and sighed. After all. Many species performed actions that were considered illogical, and what good was it to judge. All T'she could really do was look on from the outside.

“Such is the way of us illogical humans.” She laughed, and took a sip of her tea. Hal was always down to be an illogical human, whenever she could. After all, someone had to teach Lorin all she knew about humanity, and that someone was her Academy roommate.

"Humanity is... strange. I have lived among it my whole life... but yet..." They sighed, not quite sure what they wanted to say. Humans never made sense to them, at least... most of the time. There were those who did, people like their grandfather, who made tea every meal, or their mentor, who only wished to make the Galaxy a safer place. They knew, deep down, that they were also most probably an illogical being, someone who relied on emotions -- the drive to make someone proud, the need to be recognized for their work.

“We’re strange, and unpredictable, and illogical, and that’s what makes us fun. If we were all the same and acted the same, well, we’d just be faceless cogs in some machine. Humanity is individuality.” Hal did have some thoughts about this, but her train of thought was really more of a unicycle with a drunk goat at the pedals. Hal liked goats, though. Specifically baby goats, they were cute.

"At times... the unpredictability and illogicalness can make humanity cruel. That is what I have observed from experience. It is illogical to be afraid of what one does not understand. Of what does not look like the rest. Humanity... can become just as faceless as any other species." Their face had become hardened, their eyes shut as they tried to ward off any memories that might come forward. It was not the time to reminisce, it was not the time to be vulnerable. This person had a clear expectation of who they were -- the Emotionless Vulcan -- and they would do their best to live up to it. They wished to extract themself from this conversation, to leave to their room. They did not like debates of philosophy, where there was no right answer. After all, there were two sides to every coin, and many facets to every jewel.

“Anyway, I’m going to go video chat my brother. Have a good night.” Hal got up, draining the last of her tea and leaving the mug on the side table. She entered her private quarters and the door shut behind her.

T'she nodded before they got up from their own seat to go to their own room. Perhaps they had been too harsh, but then again, they needed to protect themself, they needed to protect their fragile heart from further damage. They closed the door to their private quarters and sat on the bed, staring out into space for a time, eyes unfocused as they tried to clear their mind. There was no use worrying about it, there was no use dwelling on it amy longer than they had to.

T'she was getting ready for the ball, a solemn affair to be sure. They wanted their outfit to be perfect, and as they finished the knot of koshimono around their waist, they inspected the drape of the fabric on their body, the way the silk looked compared to the visible part of their juban. Satisfied, they moved onto their Obi, facing the mirror with the fabric that they had chosen and starting the long process of knots and wraps and tying that went into making it perfect. (Obijime, Obiage, the Obi itself, the Obimakura pad, the Otaiko shape, all of it was important). They thought of the last time they had worn a Kimono, for just a moment of course, and their face fell for just a moment. (It was a funeral. One of the many that they had attended over the course of their life). It was a chance for a new memory, a formal occasion unrelated to death. In the end, with their outfit sufficiently perfect, with their makeup perfectly applied, they stepped outside of their quarters, heading for the event hall on question.

Much of the time, any social event took everything that T'she had. They were not much of a social person after all, and they needed some time to recharge so to speak. Hence, the moment they were in their private quarters, and they had the time to dress in much more comfortable clothing, they did just that. With pajamas on, curled into their bed, closing their eyes and pulling one of their many blankets over their body.

A present sat outside T'she's door: a box of assorted loose-leaf teas in packets, the box itself decorated with a sumi-e style painting made of black and red inks; it depicted the rusty sand dunes of the Iron Desert, a place on Vulcan known for its red, iron-rich sands. There was also a note in neat cursive that said: x_divider

00:38

"For T'she. Hello! I heard through the grapevine that you're a tea-lover. Me too! As such, I've endeavoured to provide you with some teas from my own collection I think you might find interesting. As nice as certain popular Terran teas are - earl grey (hot), chai, darjeeling, rooibos, etc. - if you're already a tea-lover chances are you've already had them a thousand and one times. However, out of Vulcan solidarity I have elected to include redspice tea and a few other popular Vulcan teas. Onto the teas of rare and unusual nature, I have included the following: Jumja fruit tea, which you undoubtedly already know of - the Bajoran tea made from the popular fruit, still kind of a normie tea but not quite as much - and also, cela tea, which was often used more in religious ceremonies to cleanse the mind before having an Orb Experience, which saw a surge in popularity when Bajor joined the Federation and there was a pique in interest regarding Bajoran spirituality among our worlds. Cela tea in particular is best when brewed by monks in the Rakantha province (which I've provided, of course, so savour it). Also, hot tip/subjective opinion: jumja tea is better iced, while cela tea is best hot with keefa milk. Gavaline tea and jestral tea, both from Betazed, both said to be the favourite of Lwaxana Troi, Deanna Troi's mother. Perhaps she just had a lot of favourite teas! Slightly illogical to declare multiple things one's favourite thing, but sometimes one must be hyperbolic about one's passions.

00:38

Bahgol tea from Qo'nos. NOT to be confused with Bahgel tea, which will kill anyone not a Klingon very, extremely, absolutely dead, and not to be confused with bagels, which are a Terran bread product. We use the latter in tea ceremonies, which aren't as peaceful as they sound; they are tests of courage and constitution, in which we drink the poisonous tea and then read poetry to one another, though funnily enough if you removed the poison-drinking part the process wouldn't be too dissimilar to some Vulcan tea ceremonies… though I suppose our poetry is more about conflict and drama than nature and tranquility. Anyway, I can promise you that Bahgol tea is very non-poisonous and very good, if a little strong. Best with Targ milk. Hrugar tea, made from a rare type of moss; only the Chiar of planet Chi in the Delta Quadrant grow it, and their planet barely has any nature on it except for the odd reserve. Can't be very good for their ecosystem, but at least it means drinking it will be a rare experience! If you should seek more, I believe someone, perhaps even me, is tending to a plant in the community gardens. Dramian weed tea. Yes, that kind of weed. No, you don't have to drink this one if you don't want to; at the very least, I hope you find it to be interesting. There's also a plant for this in the community gardens. Station 420 started a preservation program for rare and endangered seeds and such, and I believe it's caught on throughout the Federation. Additionally, the best place to drink tea around here is Surak Snacks, and I'm a friend of the owner; he's oddly stingy for a Vulcan, but I've managed to talk him into giving you a discount if you ever choose to spend your latinum there. Perhaps you may even run into me? Happy holidays! - E"

(edited)

To: Lt. JG. T'she From: Captain Mephistopheles Mo Please see me in my office to discuss a matter of importance. I will be there from 1700-1900. This is not an emergency.

The gift had been very warmly recieved. (Maybe, in time, T'she would admit that they had smiled ever so bright when they had read the kind notes, perhaps they would admit that a tear had crossed their eye as they started to contemplate the kindness that someone that they did not know had shown them, but of course, that would be... illogical). They had placed the teas with the rest of their collection, alphabetically, with notes about each new varietal accompanying it on their little table. They wiped their face ever so gently before they turned to the other matter at hand, the PADD message that they had received. They dressed in their uniform and took a deep breath, hands shaking as they wondered what they might have been called for -- was it something good? Was it something bad? Well, no matter what could have been, they needed to get going, which was exactly what they had done.

T'she was quick to disappear into their private quarters, mumbling something rather unintelligible to themself as they rummaged through some of the possessions that they kept ever so neatly in a small box beside their bed. Soon enough they had pulled out what they needed, what they had been looking for, a framed picture of a family -- an image of an elderly couple behind a child with pointed ears (said child wearing a handmade sweater, of course), all smiling (at least somewhat) at the camera in front of them. They laid the picture on their bed, alongside the box that contained the medal, and, tears in their eyes, they began to speak. "Sofu... Sobo... You will never believe what just happened. I... managed to do something right, at least... I think I did. I... got a ribbon to commemorate my actions during a recent event. It... is hard for me to believe because... well... to me I just did what seemed right, but... it happened." Their normally calm voice was beginning to break before they composed themself again. "I hope that you would be proud of me if you were able to see me now." They finished with a solemn nod before they turned to put everything away, the picture back in its box (for safekeeping), and the ribbon in a separate place, one where they kept things that pertained to their career.

Sitting on Halcyon's table, was a medium sized parcel wrapped in silver and gold wrapping paper with stars coating it and a small note taped to the top.

Dear Halcyon, Thank you for a wonderful year of hard work, I hope you've enjoyed yourself this festive period. You weren't the easiest to come up with a gift for, but after some careful asking around, I think this might be to your liking. From, Your Secret Santa ❤️

Inside the gift was a old style rugged leather jacket, upon both the sleeve and on the chest pocket was emblazoned with two Starfleet medical patches, alongside the name Halcyon stitched beneath them. The parcel also included a few bonus patches seperate from the jacket she could have stitched on in addition if required as well as a couple of medical journals on Pathology folded inside the Jacket.

T'she decided to spend some time in the commerce center. After all, they rarely got to spend time outside of their quarters or their job. It was, of course, something that they chose, but even they needed a break. Hence, they decided to treat themself. They decided to dress themself in one of their favorite hanten, their loose pants, their socks, their sandals, and their turtleneck. They judged how they looked in the mirror, fixing their hair and pushing their glasses back up their nose, all before they walked out of their quarters and into the corridor.

It was a quiet affair, returning to their quarters after this whole event. It was a quiet affair, keeping up that same emotionless expression that they were known for. They were Vulcan after all, that was what they were supposed to be known for. (They were human, too, but that knowledge tended to fall by the wayside). They had been discharged from sickbay, given a clean bill of health, told to return to duty their next shift, that everything was fine. (They mystery had been solved, their actions were not their own). (But something inside them thought that maybe they should have fought against it, that they should have done something*).* “So long to you beloved traitor.” They spoke to themself, their voice muffled behind the crumpled sleeve of what had once been a perfectly neat and tidy uniform. It was soon divested of. They could no longer bear the weight of the fabric, the weight of the meaning behind it. A simple pair of pants, a simple shirt, the most that they could bear, no distinguishing features, they wanted to blend into the background, they wanted to disappear into the fabric of the ship and never be seen again. It was only logical, they told themself, they had failed. They had broken a promise They told themself, once, at the grave of another, that they would never raise their hand in combat again, not unless it was to defend those that they held dear, not unless it was to protect those in their care. “The same but different, somehow different.” They mused out loud, voice clearer by this point as they looked up at the empty ceiling of their quarters. They wanted to make a mess, they wanted to tear down their decorations, they wanted to break something. And… they did not know why. Instead they sat there, on the floor, and they stared, flashes of the things they did playing in their mind without stopping. They were too tired for anything else. They were too tired even for tears.

They could not stay inside and wallow in their self pity, they needed to work, they needed to get things done. They had a shift to get to, so, with a new uniform on their body, they left their room, trying to forget everything that had happened. Keep calm. Keep an emotionless face. Never let anyone see what's inside.