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Day 11 [2225 hrs.] The Thin Ice Swallows All

The Thin Ice Swallows All

Stardate 57585.07
21 March 2381
2225 hrs.

[Ensign Irnashall "Shall" ch'Xinya | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy] attn: @steelphoenix

If security had been called by any of the crewmembers that had been pushed aside he never heard it.  They must not have been though, nowhere did a group of orange-collared officers intercept him.  It was probably for the better though, running on autopilot like he was, he was bound to act on instinct and lash out in a way that would land him in the brig.  Or worse.  Instead, it seemed like everyone was willing to give him the space to roam and sulk, with so much going on due to the repairs, shore leaves, and everything else one blue skin acting like an ass wasn’t worth the time and trouble to deal with unless he was actively destroying something.

Left alone like that, the Andorian somehow managed to to find a set of doors that had a label that suggested a safe place, somewhere where he could take refuge from the universe, if only for a few minutes.  They parted as soon as he approached, the warm environment within immediately thawing the block of ice that had been building inside his body.  The audial buzz of the conversations within flowed around him like a spring breeze, betraying the presence of multiple people.  He paused just outside, hesitant to be around a group of people for some reason that he couldn’t figure out, but a look through the beckoning opening showed that it was far from crowded, there was plenty of space for privacy if that was what he wished.

The feet under him moved on their own, propelled by legs pushing forward.  The bar in front had what the brain controlling the entire system needed: something to wash away the news that was repeating over and over and over inside of it.  The solid stool seat found itself underneath him with little notice that he’d arrived.  The countertop took up the most of his attention now, the sterile surface plain and blank, reflecting his blue face imperfectly, casting the reflection into a wavy blur of blue framed with white.  A shadow appeared before him, blotting everything out.  The unspoken question was easy to answer thankfully.  “The strongest you have.” Shall answered, not caring what he got as long as it would erase the newest message he got less than an hour ago:

“Shar was gone, and took the thei with her.”

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #1 –
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @chXinya 

Deacon gave the Andorian a long look, although not overly so, before raising a hand towards the holographic bartender who awaited nearby.  It was a simple gesture but one that had evolved ever so quickly given the tendencies of the crew.  Whatever is strongest, symbolized by an extended index finger, the remaining fingers flexed forward as one.  It was a matter of seconds before Taliesin slid a tall glass filled three quarters with a faint brown liquid.  "Local whiskey," Taliesin stated, after delivering the drink to Shall's seat.

"We've been fortunate enough to replenish a great deal of our supplies with this stop over," Deacon added, giving Shall a bit of a sidewards glance as Taliesin slipped away.

Ordinarily, he would be home now, wrapped up in his wife's arms and readying for bed, but this particular night he had scheduled for one of his classes with Thea, and it was taking some time yet for his mind to settle, so he had opted to busy himself with some duties Below Decks to give K'Ren some deserved quiet time.

But there was something more in the Andrian's expression -- a level of discontent that Deacon hadn't witnessed in his fellow crewmates in a few weeks and frankly something he could have gone longer without seeing.  Softening the edges of his eyes behind his now customary glasses, he offered, "I could make some Spice Bread if you'd like.  I think we have sufficient supplies for a decent variant."  Of course, he doubted lack of Andorian Spice Bread was the root of his problems, but ziirgah or no ziirgah, Deacon could at least recognize when someone needed to speak and a receptive set of ears to hear them out.

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #2 –
[Ensign Irnashall "Shall" ch'Xinya | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy] attn: @steelphoenix

Despite the late hour the staff was on the ball.  Shall waited just a few seconds before a glass with something brown and pungent appeared in front of him.  He couldn’t place any of the smells, but with it being an Aldean vintage that was no surprise, only the one foray to the “spa” early on included any drinks, and none of them were like this one.  The scent didn’t linger though, almost as soon as Taliesin had let go Shall’s blue hand swept up the tumbler and knocked the entire batch back in a single motion.

He regretted it immediately.

Shall’s eyes stung while his throat and mouth burned from the surprising strength, the grimace on his face and sudden lashing of his antenna made the shock clear to anyone who was watching.  Making it worse was the sheer quantity of liquid, it took several swallows to force it down.  The chan couldn’t stop the coughing fit and following wheezes once he could breathe again.  Shall pushed the empty glass away and pressed both palms against the countertops to ground himself, the room was spinning around his head by a few degrees.

When Deacon looked over from another portion of the counter and offered to make some spice bread Shall tried to emphatically turn it down, but he couldn’t shake his head without making the room jolt around like a rattle nor say so as the only sound he could make was a wheeze.  Between that and the way his stomach was churning, the spice bread started to sound like a lovely idea.  Unwilling to risk another attack that could end with him flopped on the floor the Andorian tapped an affirmative with his knuckles.

With little else to do for the moment while Deacon worked on the snack, Shall concentrated on the patterns and texture on the counter, an old mediative method popping into his mind from somewhere.  It was surprisingly effective, before too long it didn’t feel like every move of his head didn’t move the lounge around by a scaled amount.  It came with a nice bonus too: for a few minutes Shar was nowhere to be found in his thoughts.  By the end a new need came up, a relatively simple fix.  As soon as Deacon was back with the promised snack the Andorian rasped out a quick request through his singed throat: “Ice water?”

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #3 –
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @chXinya 

Deacon slid a glass of clear icy water forward as if he had expected the request.  Truthfully speaking, it was much the same reaction he'd had after his first experience with the inebriates that humans seemed to suckle with such impunity.  His expression was caught somewhere between amusement and sympathy as he looked at the Andorian.

"Humans manage like it was mother's milk.  I shudder to think at the teet that would produce half the stuff they manage to wash down," he said with a slight smirk, giving the glass of water a final nudge.  "It is a relief to see that not everyone in the crew finds it so palatable."

He turned, pulling a plate decorated with a fragrant loaf warm with the scent of honey and clove, a hint of nuts and a variety of savory spices managing to maintain a faint undercurrent.  "Here, this should settle your stomach some.  And it should take some of the harshness out of the hang over.  It's not quite the same as true Andorian Spice Bread, but it should be a decent enough stand in." 

Grabbing another small glass concotte, he placed it on the counter beside the plate.  "A citrus glaze, if you prefer."

He hovered for a moment, in part out of a sense of vanity for his craft, but also out of recognition.  It was only a week or two ago that he, himself, was on the other side of that face, not to mention the other side of the sour stomach.  On homeworld, his mere presence would incite necessary confessions, but the Federation did not have the same reverence for priests, it seemed, and few on board even knew of his training.  But still he lingered, wiping down a portion of the bar,

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #4 –
[Ensign Irnashall "Shall" ch'Xinya | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy] attn: @steelphoenix

The pinkskin behind the bar was clearly a mind reader, he had the water ready almost before Shall had rasped out his request.  The Andorian wasted no time in taking the glass but he wasn’t so far gone that all sense of propriety went out the airlock, a few simple sips were enough to soothe his throat.  A few more regular drinks quickly followed, easily washing out the taste of that “whiskey” Deacon had given him.  “By Lor’vela what will these pinkskins not drink?” he retorted in amazement.  “How often do they ask for bulkhead sanitizer?”  The Kzinti hybrid didn’t deign to answer though, some sort of bartender’s code of “don’t serve and tell”?  The plate of spiced bread was a welcome sight in place of a reply though, and Shall’s stomach audibly rumbled.  He eyeballed the “citrus glaze” curiously, uncertain of what to do with it.  Deacon hovered nearby, but if he was expecting words to describe the proffered meal they weren’t coming anytime soon.  Abandoning his manners to his sudden hunger Shall dove into the small meal with gusto.

For Shall it seemed like a stalk twitch before the loaf was nothing but a lingering taste on his tongue but in reality it was at least a few minutes.  Having focused so intently on what was in front of him the chan never deigned to speak about anything to his host, at least at first.  As soon as his conscious mind recognized that there was no more food to be had at the moment he tidied up the corners of his mouth like a proper gentlebeing, dabbing them with the napkin.  “You were right, different enough that it would never be mistaken for Andorian, but a satisfying alternate.”  A few sips of water took care of any thirst brought on my the bread, and soon there was nothing but an uncomfortable silence between the two men, just enough space that her blue face returned to Shall’s mind and his deep frown returned once again.

“What in the name of the Guardians was she thinking?!” Shall finally erupted, the emotional pressures pushing past their breaking point.  A blue fist slammed down onto the counter hard enough to bounce the impromptu table setting as the other hand tried to cover the shame on his face.  “She left and took him with her…”

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #5 –
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @chXinya 

Deacon smirked inwardly as the Andorian remained wordless, determined, it seemed, not to admit to any preference or pleasure, but the ravenous abandon that overtook him as he devoured the bread was sufficient enough to assuage his gastronomic ego.  In truth, words might otherwise have been empty.  Humans tended to make false platitudes... "white lies" they called them, although Deacon found it curious that they would ascribe a color to something intangible.  What, then, was a purple lie?  Orange?  Were there patterned lies -- paisley or plaid, perhaps?  It seemed an unnecessary complication and was another reason he found the language simultaneously worth the challenge of mastering and frustrating in equal parts.

When the ensign finally spoke, acknowledging the difference in what was presented versus what might otherwise be customary, Deacon nodded, admitting, "Perhaps next time we're in orbit of Andoria, we can secure the necessary spices to make it proper."  He waved a hand slightly, "Unless you know an Orion spice trader or an inexpensive Ferengi with culinary lobes."

For a moment, Deacon considered gagh and gree worm hybrid dish.  While he was certain Klingons appreciated their gagh fresh, the addition of the razor-toothed worms of Ferenginar might well add a level of challenge and excitement to the meal to appeal to the warrior heart of the Klingons.  It was a concept he would have to explore if the captain ever called on him to offer a feast for their hosts.  If only he could secure a source of live gree worms...

But as Shall nursed his water, silence seemed to stretch outward.  It wasn't something to which Deacon was unaccustomed -- he spent most of his day in silence, but it was rare when he went out of his way to be sociable.  He considered whether the time had finally come for him to wrap up his duties and go to be when the ensign finally spoke vehemently, slamming his fist against the table for emphasis.

Deacon inhaled deeply.  "Well, I could speculate," he stated, casting a sidewards glance at the table where his fist had resounded moments before, "if you wanted to tell me of whom you speak."  On initial pass, he could only assume that some female had caught his eye only to find herself in another man's arms.  It seemed a simple guess, but with Andorians, it was exceedingly difficult to tell, what with four genders and all.  When the priests insisted that he learn the language, he was convinced that someone was sabotaging his studies for weeks when the matter of gender, sexuality, pronouns came up.  Having been raised in a two gendered society where one gender was often little more than property, wrapping his head around Andorians took quite some time.

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #6 –
[Ensign Irnashall "Shall" ch'Xinya | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy] attn: @steelphoenix

Shall’s head shook out of reflex, his hair rustling along the blue knuckles as he tried to hide the beginnings of those shameful tears.  “Speculate all you want, even if you guess correctly you’d never understand.”  The rage that threatened to consume the chan was impossible to conceal, his traitorous antenna would not stop lashing, the tip whipping around as if seeking a target.  It wasn’t until the cold water seeped through the fabric of his uniform that Shall realized that when he hit the counter he’d hit it with enough force to topple the glass Deacon had given him.  Something about the sensation cooled his emotions and he sighed in resignation, righting the glass and grabbing the nearest bit of cloth to mop up the mess.

Shall studied the bartender’s face for a few moments, shame slowly replacing the heated outburst on his face, especially in his eyes and the drooping antenna.  Something clicked internally, and he just knew then that the man could be trusted.  “You were over there with us, weren’t you?  Beamed away to be a lab rat for those thrice-damned Savi?”  Deacon’s reaction proved his memory correct.  “When everyone ended up on the bridge and that bitch explained everything, do you remember what she said about us Andorians?”  He scoffed and shook his head again as if trying to shake something loose.  “They forced the four of us into a mockery of the shelthreth, promised a cure for our childbearing crisis.  It was a lie, every bit of it.  All they wanted was a video to pleasure themselves with!”  The pale blue antenna started to thrash again, but his hands were more content to wring the cloth instead of the closest Savi neck.  “But they were right about one thing, we were compatible.  Shar conceived a thei, but there were no willing zhens to carry him.  The android made some machine to hold him in stasis until we could find one.”

At last, the gates behind his eyes finally started to break and a few tears started to run down his cheeks, something no one other than his own parents and bondmates had ever seen.  “My own bondmates and I had tried for our own without success, and the fates cursed me with making me a ushevaya and gifting me with a thei I’ll never see again.”

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs.] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #7 –
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @chXinya 

Challenging with what he might never understand?  He was raised Kzinti and now found himself self-exiled from his home to the Federation -- the domain of a people he had been taught to despise and loathe despite being of those people?  His whole life seemed aflood of such challenges.

His priesthood aside, a lesser man would throw up his arms at such adversity.  He was not a lesser man.  And he owed it to the people of this new pride to which he had sworn himself to try and understand.

He regarded the upturned glass and the cascade of ice water thankful that the Federation standard for drink wear did not result in the regular shattering that one might expect from more terrestrial establishment.  Without diverting his gaze, he reached over for another towel, sliding it forward towards the Andorian even has the hand he'd been holding his own rag with steadily began to sop up the mess that had collected on the bar.

When asked if he had been among those abducted by the Savi, he gave a grim nod through tightened lips.  There was more to be said but this was neither the place nor the company in which to give word to his own dark thoughts on the matter.  Neither was this the time to express his incredulity at the seemingly overly complex requirements for Andorian breeding. 

He stood silently a moment, debating whether he should dwell on the irony that they had seen to the birthing of a pure-blooded Andorian and, with as much petulant arrogance, cast aside the life of a hybrid from the joining of two hybrids because their dogma took some unasked offense at the mixing of races.  There was little irony that the Kzinti, too, were similarly against such cross breeding, but in that regard, he supposed it was their choice and not some external mandate.

"I'm afraid I'm not overly familiar with Andorian mating or familial customs," he offered at last, "but it sounds as if you have a child.  Born of tragic circumstances, true, but born."  He placed a hand on the ensign's shoulder, "And while in this moment, that fact is painful to bear, in time, should you wish it, the opportunity may present itself such that you may reunite."

It felt a trite offering, but ofttimes the most base truth was simplistic at its core, and its revelations unadorned.  It was what we made of those truths that lead to their flavor.


Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs.] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #8 –
[Ensign Irnashall "Shall" ch'Xinya | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy] attn: @steelphoenix

Something about the simple understanding touch made all the difference.  Andorians were famed for their volatile emotions but Shall’s pride made the tears sting worse than the most bitter of winter storms.  The realization of what their thei would mean for his family on Andoria was a weight that threatened to crush him, but somehow it felt like it had shifted.  “Uzaveh broke Thirishar into the Four.” one of his teachers had preached many years ago when Shall was still quite young.  “No one Andorian can be Whole on their own, that is why He created the chan, thaan, zhen, and shen.  Only when together can they be Whole, nor can four be Whole without the clan.  Only together do we reach our full strength.”

Shall hadn’t taken much stock in the old teachings of Uzaveth, that was Tavin’s realm.  Still, the words seemed to find their purchase at last, but as the message echoed in his thick skull the voice morphed from the raspy elder’s to the young bartender’s.  For months the chan had wallowed in resentment, openly or not.  He’d been robbed of his clanmates and at every turn the universe threw more obstacles between them.  But here was a fellow exile reminding Shall of the one truth that held Andorian society together: it took all of them to keep each other secure on the ice.  Yes his thei was gone for now, but he had survived.  Deep in his heart the chan knew the others would understand what had happened, how he had come to be.  Society itself was dropping the old stigmas as well, with fewer children born each year any birth was celebrated.

And here on the Theurgy, no matter how alone Shall might feel at night, he had hundreds of mates around him ready to hold him up.

One blue hand clasped the pink one on his shoulder while the other wiped the slowing tears from his face.  “We suffer now so that the future will be brighter.” the Andorian semi-droned, another old teaching coming to mind.  “No matter how thick the ice might get the cycle moves and frees us from its grasp.”  For the first time in days a smile graced his face.  “How is your mate?”

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs.] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #9 –
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @chXinya 

Deacon was unaccustomed and not expecting the question presented to him.  It wasn't that Kzinti didn't engage in what was considered 'small talk', it was a matter that he was uncertain how much to disclose as they had seemed to reach some sort of comfort that the Andorian needed to settle himself.  Saying too much could upset that balance, let alone Deacon's own, and worse yet, could distract the conversation into another focus.

He considered for a moment as he continued to wipe the bar.  "She is..." he paused, uncertain what word to use next.  "Coping," he settled.  "She had opted to remain in her altered form in solidarity of me remaining in mine for the time being but it was problematic.  Fortunately, the android was able to restore her back to herself."  At this, he gave an approving nod, although his expression obscured something that yet troubled him.

"I suspect that I may want to take some psychology courses when all is said and done," he pondered aloud, his commitment to improving his education so much a part of his thought process that he invariably forgot that such was an uncommon pursuit aboard a starship and that it was hardly the most common of knowledge among the crew.  Of course, if not for his classes this night, he likely would not have been present to lend an ear and learning that he had missed such an opportunity would have disappointed him greatly.

"Now then, if you are more yourself, is there anything else you would like for the night?  I can brew a cup of srjula if you like."

----
* Srjula is apparently an Andorian tea (https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php/Andorian/Food_and_Beverages)

Re: Day 11 [2225 hrs.] The Thin Ice Swallows All

Reply #10 –
[Ensign Irnashall "Shall" ch'Xinya | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy] attn: @steelphoenix

Shall listened to Deacon in turn as the Kzinti answered the Andorian’s question.  The hesitancy was understandable, the chan still wasn’t sure how to explain everything to his mates if they were ever to be reunited.  His antenna twitched at the mention of the Savi android and its work at restoring the genetic alterations that had been forced on some of the others, as bad as his situation was with forced mating he just couldn’t fathom dealing with having your very being violated like that.

Leaning back just enough to give Deacon a bit more space now that the need for comfort was over, Shall nodded at the idea of psychology classes.  They’d picked up a few councilors again from what he’d heard around already, but around here there would never be enough to go around.  The bartender moved on before Shall could say anything though, and his offer of srjula perked up his attention.  “Srjula? You have the leaves?”  He leaned forward a bit, glancing behind the counter in the chance that he might be able to see the container, antenna curling forward.  That was when something else came to mind.  “You know…I donated a bottle of ale when I first came aboard.  Any chance it might still be here?”  His blue eyes looked at the tender eagerly.  It was supposed to be kept safe for a proper moment.  Why not now?

- FIN
 
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