Skip to main content ↑ ↓
Topic: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm (Read 4707 times) previous topic - next topic
0 Members and 2 Guests are viewing this topic.

CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


It had been a challenging start into this new chapter of their voyage. A day, seemingly stretching into the endless. Concluding with Samantha having left the bridge at the end of an 11-hour shift. She had to shed off the duty and the responsibilities all alike, as the day was crowned with a more personal space. Relinquishing her long-lasting armor, dematerializing the Starfleet issue uniform, the blonde fetched a catsuit from her closet, that had been a present from her grandmother. A piece of real fashion from Paris, which had once upon a time meant something, now it was a mere memento of her loss. It was sort of ironic, really, as her fingertips carefully ascertained the surface of the metallic looking fabric. Ironic that she had not yet ever worn this before. And while the thought of her grandparents, probably not being alive anymore, was still repressed skillfully, it seemed as good enough a concession to make, as far as closing in on the pain went.

Slipping the one-shouldered garment onto her slender figure, the diplomat took a moment to soak in the untouched scent of home, as faint as it may have been. Using all her Vulcan teachings to steer her thoughts away from the day, and towards … anything else, really. Watching the blue light of their slipstream jump still wash by her windows like a twisted kaleidoscope, she ran both hands through her hairs to even them out a bit, before leaving her quarters once more. She was now a good 7 minutes late. Sarresh and her had agreed to a dinner that night, days ago, and despite everything that had gone down, she had felt no reason to skip out of it. She hoped he saw it the same way. Hell, for a good portion of the day it had been the light at the end of the tunnel. Surely it was not entirely fair to put this much on a simple co-consumption of food and drink, with someone she had met once – well, twice.

Stepping into the turbolift, a smile crossed Samantha’s face, as she pondered their second engagement, striking her as odd that their first had seemed to be more on the forefront of her mind. Despite the planet-side dive having ended in a more significant capacity. She could very well remember the strange sense of connection between them, which was not necessarily limited to when they touched accidentally. Because with every time they seemed to share a reality of their own, a little piece of him seemed to persist as an echo, for a long time after. The woman did not know what it meant. She had never experienced it before. She also had never met an Ashreem before. So, the inquisitive Vulcan nature inside of her just wanted to explore this sensation, while the human part just wanted to feel it again.

Making her way into Below Decks, astutely aware of how things had ended here hours earlier with the Klingons, the diplomat took a cautious look around, taking stock of the few members of their race that still loitered around. None of them seemed to take any notice of her, past the superficial. Seeing Sarresh at one of the tables furthest away from the entrance, the blonde smiled, making her way over with long strides. “I apologize for my tardiness.” she breathed slightly, disguised in a pleasant smile. If she had felt tired and worn out minutes ago, there was now some reserve tapped into, she didn’t know she had. “I had wanted to be on the bridge for the jump. Trying to gauge the sentiments.” the commander explained, settling down into the seat opposite the man. She wasn’t a counselor, but she still dealt with people, and wanted to know where everyone was at. If potentially for less ulterior motives, than her unlikely counterparts in teal.

“Are you hungry? How was your day?” was an innocent enough way to start the end of the day. She had no intention to dump her struggles on him right then, if ever, even though she hoped some sort of mutual relief could be achieved tonight. Leaning back in her seat, brushing her plump lips together, Samantha caught her hands between her thighs, as she crossed her long legs around them. A subconscious attempt at avoiding any direct contact, no matter how fleeting, no matter how accidental. With no intention to relay any of what she was feeling so openly. Watching the man’s aquatic swirls intently, trying to figure out whether his day may have potentially been even worse. Though unlikely, she could probably also draw relief from helping him solve his problems and thus repressing her own. The intent for the dinner had been an altogether different one, hadn’t it. Though nothing had been formalized or even implied, a major emotional dump was not usually included.

OUTFIT

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #1 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

Over the last month, Sarresh Morali had become something of a regular fixture in the lounges that were scattered across the various vectors of the USS Theurgy. Though he had most often frequented the popular Below Decks lounge, he had taken advantage of all the available drinking establishments aboard, including the Arboretum Cafe, Spearhead, Whetstone and Wardroom lounges. Plus a few other places aboard one might look to find a bit of solitude while surrounded by a crowd of people. Affirming one was alive, while not having to actually engage hardly any of them at all. And save for a few hangover inducing evenings early on after the Battle of the Apertures, most of his evenings spent among the crew had been pleasant diversions from his quarters, where he could scowl over the rim of a drink and discourage anyone from making small talk.

Today was...different.  The evening had been set up in advanced, an oddity for the relative recluse. A planned moment. A ...well, he wasn't sure he could out right call it a 'date' exactly. He didn't quite understand if the arranged shared meal to be had counted for that. It wasn't something discussed. A meeting over a meal then, a pleasant intercourse of consumption and conversation in the company of one of the few people he not only found bearable, but with whom he had been swiftly forging a deep connection. Two friends, he assumed, if the word really applied.

Why are interpersonal relations so damned hard?

When they had planned the shared meal, of course, they had not known that they would be fleeing the port of refuge the ship had taken in Aldea, in the wake of the revelation of their location by an upstart Klingon noble. Nor that the capital of the Federation would have been hit by a Thalaron bomb. They certainly did not expect to be having the meal while the ship made her first maiden run of the Quantum Slipstream drive. Needless to say, Sarresh had half expected his dining companion to cancel the occasion. She, after all, was senior staff and probably needed to read some obscure treaty with the Klingon Empire to prepare for what was to come. He was just a rather useless temporal physicist whom failed to detect any deviation in the time stream. There were ripples, and he had forwarded a report up the chain of command, but the flare up had happened almost instantaneously, the small ripples becoming a spike with the detonation. 

His report was currently sitting on the desk of Commander Ducote, as the Captain had less interest in dealing with the Time Traveler these days. As this was a mutual feeling, using the First Office as something of a go between worked out nicely, in the former Ash'reem's opinion. Lowly JG as he was, however, that opinion counted for very little in the grand scheme of things. Be that as it may, he had not been able to detect the disruption of the timeline that would indicate the bombing of Paris in any clarity prior to the act itself; however there were now clear disruption markers, and by tracking their effects, he had been able to provide a myriad of possible further locations. Too many to be of any real use right then, though he noted with some pride that he provided a second point of verification for an attempt in Breen space. 

Sighing, he pushed such thoughts from his mind and toyed idly with the pale, pearl white sleeve of his v neck shirt. It was of Bajoran cut, loose about the arms and waist though tight across his chest. Over top of that shirt was a deeper blue gray vest, that hung long, down a bit past the shirt, to mid thigh. Comfortable clothing, a style he'd adopted over the last two months aboard the ship. Back home, clothes were of little importance save when dealing with off-worlders, or when in harsh climates. Aboard a Starfleet vessel one needed to remain clothed when outside of ones quarters. Bajoran garb was as pleasing as anything else. He liked the flowing nature of many of the garments. In any event, his attire was a bit nicer than he might otherwise have worn (a step up from a sleeveless shirt and lounge pants, in any event), as the meal was a bit nicer than he would have normally set up for himself. Or so the theory went. 

He was looking out the viewport, at the swirling blue lights that cast shadows across his face, the ethereal glow of the slipstream that buffeted the starship and sped its journey at unfathomable speeds, when she entered the lounge. Sarresh didn't notice the doors opening, that happened too often to draw his attention, even if he was already in an anxious state, waiting for her arrival. Wondering why she was nine minutes, thirty two seconds late (and counting). He was fidgeting with his combadge, flipping it over and over in his palm. But as she approached, he stiffened, feeling her coming before he saw her. It was damned strange, and not of the first time Sarresh had to wonder if something had happened with the memory coding in the back of his brain. Had something slipped a gear?

In any event, he saw her, and rose just as she reached the table. Usually dour, a small smile graced his lips, though it was more a smile of the eyes, than something that split the face apart in mirth. Genuine though, which was what counted. "It's fine," he said simply, acknowledging her excuse, and easing back into his own seat across from her. He settled back in the seat, one leg crossed over the other with the knee resting against the edge of the table, and his hands folded one atop the other on the knee in turn. Sarresh was desperately trying to look relaxed, as he glanced over his shoulder at the view port and flicked a finger up in its direction. 

"You know, getting slipstream like this should have been some kind of timeline disruption, but as far as I can tell, todays launch actually fixed something in the time stream. Of course, I can't remember what. Or how. But it's sure a funny moment, all of this," he wiggled his finger about again. He'd watched the launch from his lab, surrounded by consoles, then departed from there to his quarters to change for this. Sarresh had not set foot on the bridge since they'd arrived in the Aldean system, and had not been invited up to observe the launch. 

Smiling and shrugging a bit, he let the leg slide off to the side and scooted his chair forward, resting both elbows on the table and leaning in, his chin upon his hands. A soft sigh passed his lips as he seemed to deflate slightly, thinking back on the day that had unfolded. "I haven't eaten since breakfast this morning. Just one thing after another. You would think that all those scans, all those readings, the charting of temporal matters and the wiring they did to my head," he pulled his left hand away from the right, and tapped two fingers against his temple, "I would have seen this coming. It's made a hell of a mess of well..everything in the observatory. But the waters of future history are incredibly murky at the moment.

"In short, I've felt bloody useless all day, and put a lot of hours and effort into being useless apparently. You humans have a saying about horses and barn doors, I think? Feels pretty fitting at the moment." Another sigh, then a pause, as he let himself look at her, really look at her. Not at the outfit she was wearing (he would't know fashion if it danced in front of him in nothing but a tea doily), not at how good she looked in it, but at her. And he frowned. There was a nagging intuition that something was wrong. Maybe he was reading too much into the way she held herself. Hell he was probably projecting his own inner turmoil onto her. 

"I think we could both use a good meal. How did people take it up on the bridge? The launch?" And everything else?, he thought, while trying to sort out how to broach the subject of how she was taking it.


OUTFIT

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #2 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


Brushing her plump lips together in thought, the blonde gauged the Ashreem’s reactions with focused, blue eyes. There seemed a certain sense of curtness associated with her tardy, which was understandable, and potentially characteristic to the ocean-eyed man. Though not the side of him, that she had originally encountered. Twice now, actually. Taking in his relaxed attire, subsequently, the woman drew comfort if only by the very sentiment it conveyed. Bajoran fashion, clearly. It was evident in the subtle handmade character, the slightly coarser quality of the woven fabrics, that would show nary a flaw, if they were of the contemporary Federation standard. But it was those imperfections, that lent the garment character, just like those coloured variations in the man’s pupils, did lend character to him in return too. There was a lot to be said just by looking at him, which was somewhat her business.

Following Sarresh’s notion, letting pale blue irises drift to the large viewports, still showing the slipstream effects around the ship, you could see stars drift by slowly, in the darkness beyond. The speed, they traveled at, was astonishing. Mere years ago, it was said to be impossible. Looking back at the man, as he spoke of his job, the diplomat let him finish. She had half hoped they would limit their interactions to the social variety, but did conceded that their jobs were so important to the both of them – a part of their lives, as a matter off act – that it was almost impossible to separate. One could argue the Ashreem was not only professionally intrigued by the myriad of timelines, buried in his memories. She supposed that, once something was so very ingrained into the fabric of your being, it could not be considered duty anymore. It was a personal cause. To be fair, it intrigued her too.

“Even if it was meant to happen exactly like this?” she asked him curiously, if there was anyone to discuss fate, destiny and alternate universes with, it was this handsome fella. “I mean, there has to be a timeline in existence, or on record …” Samantha gestured at his head casually. “… that contains all the moments and situation exactly as they will unfold eventually? Isn’t that the essence of the theory about infinite possibilities?” she pondered on, not quite able to circle back to a potential timeline where her life had turned out entirely differently. As such was the essence of pondering one’s own fate. As the man adjusted his position, moved forward closer to the table, and her, the commander could feel the temperature rising, a little bit. As if an oven had moved up towards her. Blood flushing to her ears. It almost felt as if mere proximity already reciprocated a physical reaction.

Furrowing her brows slightly she followed Sarresh’s elaborations. While she had not anticipated there to be much shop talk, she now had to admit she was intrigued by the theories presented, easily recognizing the potential ramifications and advantages, in regards of her own job. “Well, you’re not a fortune teller, trying to chart the possibilities and ramifications of a single person is already a full-time job. I can only imagine what it means on a galactic scale.” she chuckled lightly, all the technology and equipment aside. “So, you think we shifted something? Made a move that was not represented in any of the charted timelines?” That was certainly an interesting development. It would just have to remain seen, if that was for better or worse. “Do tell me though, if your colleagues from the future survey the development of this timeline, would they not care to intervene, if we strayed from the predestined path? I mean, it could quite easily incriminate their own existence.” And what better motivator was there?!

Letting out a self-deprecating chortle, the diplomat took a deep breath in concession. “Tell me about it.” The quintessence of the day had been that she didn’t know what she was doing, that she’d been kept in the dark – not that it would’ve made a difference. Which was exactly why she had hoped their dinner would be something more personal, distracting. But she had to admit, tossing theories around was pretty cathartic too. “Closing the barn door after the horse has bolted … well, work your temporal magic to the point where the horse was still in the box.” Samantha grinned, teasing Sarresh just a little bit. "There's also one about a kid that has already fallen into the well, about not crying over spilt milk ... regret is a very common theme among my people." she chuckled. If only temporal affairs were that easy, then she supposed they wouldn’t have any problems. Except that others would probably have the same technology and knowledge, trying to counteract their own measures … oh well, it was still a mess.

“Amen!” the blonde cheered, detaching herself from the backrest, leaning forward. Raising her hand for a steward to come over, she gave a Sarresh an inquisitive smile. “What do you feel like?”

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #3 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

"Well, yes and no," the Temporal Affairs Officer stated. "The multiverse is...complicated. There are other realities out there, branching off this way and that, but they usually...fold back on top of one another, because they are so similar that the small differences do not matter in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes they small changes do matter, and they grow and grow and you get things like the wretchedly inaccurately named 'Mirror Universe.'" he made air quotes as he spoke, something he'd picked up along the way, "That are stable and it is possible to cross paths with and that's an alternate time line, an alternate reality....the words are so imprecise." He took a small breath and shrugged.

Spreading his hands wide, he continued, in a measured pace, [color]"So in practice there an an infinite amount of timelines out there, but there is also our time line. Which we, living in it, assume to be true. And when things get bent out of shape from the perspective of those 'up-time' from the moment of the incursion, things get...complicated."[/color] He'd had decades to come to terms with it all and keep from getting a headache when discussing it. However in practice he found it a rare few who did not specialize in the area that could hold a conversation on the subject for long without tying their brain in knots. "In the current point and time of this time line that we live in, there are a select few beings in the Federation that possess the ability to note these incursions and do something about them. The Department of Temporal Investigations doesn't just harangue Starfleet officers that accidentally time travel. They deal with far more malicious actors as well. And I...have a leg up on them, by virtue of having spent the better part of my existence in what amounts to the future. Not that I can remember it."

And not for the first time, he wondered just why they had not suddenly had a visit from the 24th century contemporaries to his companions on the Relativity. The easiest answer to that was someone from 'up-time' had told them to stay out of it. Or, the infested had taken over DTI, something that Sarresh did not wish to dwell on. 

Having berated himself a few short moments after his simplified explanation, he listened in mild bemusement as Samantha tried  to offer a counter viewpoint to his. Something to sooth is ego, or at least ease his guilt. He supposed that was just part of her skill set, though he appreciated the effort she made. The result was a small smile that eased its way over his features. Her sympathy was...welcome. Which was odd, he reflected. Then again, everything about the moment, and for that matter, every interaction to date he had with Lt. Commander Rutherford had been odd. He wasn't about to complain. 

He did bark out in a short laugh that drew a few gazes, leaning back into his chair and covering his mouth with a hand. "But Samantha, my colleagues did interfere. They came back, rid the ship of the infection from Niga, the first major incursion. And they left behind someone to deal with the problem." He spread his arms wide, the implications self evident. He was the solution. "For all the good its done. But what I was saying earlier was the bombing was not supposed to happen at all. Our getting Slipstream drive was supposed to happen. But...earlier than we did. It's...complicated. And relative, I suppose. All things are relative, Einstein had that right."

They passed on then to sayings, and Sarresh listened with a quizzical expression on his face as he added a few more phrases to his mental database. They made little sense, but then, they were so very human in nature, so he really should not have expected anything else. 

While he was not the most social creature, Sarresh was an observant man. It went with the territory. He might not be able to discern the reasoning behind an action, and certain social graces flew right over his head, things he would never consider with dealing with. Small formalities that existed between sentient beings of a shared civilization, stuff like that. But that did not mean he did not pick up on some of what was going on around him, even if he had issues putting it into context that was actionable. 

To whit, it did not escape his notice that Samantha failed to respond to the second part of his question, instead latching onto the notion of dinner with a gusto. His head tilted slightly to one side, cataloging the fact, and attempting to work it into the context of the moment. She had certainly heard him, he had little doubt other wise. Replaying the words in his mind, they were asked in the same even tone as the first part of the statement about food. He could only assume then, that it was not an auditory issue at hand, but more a mater of the psyche. Dangerous waters to tread in. 

Unsure of how to proceed, whether or not to point out that she had ignored part of his questions, or let the matter lie, Sarresh decided to address what she had responded to. A logical first step, he deduced, as he needled away at the puzzle that was Samantha. "Perhaps this is not at all surprising, but I think I'd like seafood." 

His attempts at humor did not always translate well, and his generally dour mood made them infrequent enough as it was. He opened his mouth to say that he was thinking about some Chilean Sea Bass, and a side of Pacifican seaweed rolls, but then stopped, shut his mouth for a moment, and gave that a second thought. Something nagged at the back of his mind, some glancing memory, or perhaps an impression he was getting from her, something in the way she held herself. Perhaps, he thought, she might like to be involved in the choice? Mentally shrugging, he folded one hand over the other and leaned in. 

"I've found a few dishes that I've enjoyed the taste of since I had my tongue and taste-buds re-sequenced, but I'd be open to any suggestions. If you were going to have sea food, what would it be?" There was genuine curiosity in his voice now, as he shifted gears away from temporal charts and her pointed avoidance of talking about her day, to engage her along a different track.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #4 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


Temporal mechanics were a fascinating topic, but also migraine inducing. Not only because of its implications, but because of the complicated nature of infinite possibilities, cancelling each other out. It was one of those subjects, Samantha found, that she understood less, the more she knew about it. Like warp mechanics. But that was the beauty of individuality, wasn’t it? Being able to discern, hone and utilize your own personal skillset. It gave way to a certain kind of innate passion, for a subject that could not be taught or faked. The kind of passion, she saw blooming in the handsome Ashreem now, across from her, beaming with excitement and confidence, through every line of narration. His gestures, expressive and almost flamboyant, es he took a swan dive into the entangled mess, that she judged his job to be. But that was a purely subjective, outsider’s opinion. Even though Sarresh lightly alluded to him having his troubles with the logic of it all too, sometimes. Hell, the diplomat had encountered similar shortcomings in her own professional realm. Speaking of the Klingon Guests …

She had to chuckle, as he judged himself to have a leg-up, on everyone in this timeline, with his knowledge of the future, only to then backtrack at the fact of his literal, temporal amnesia. “Well, you said the memories sometimes pop up, when the changes to the timeline threaten to become too damaging?! I’d say that qualifies as a leg-up.” the blonde inquired, substantiating his original appraisal, remembering something to that effect, from their first meeting in the public bath. Tilting her head to the side slightly, gracing the man with a warm, yet curious look, the commander wanted to bask him in as comfortable a situation as possible, so she could see more of the carefree, upbeat, Ashreem that she had come to care a great deal for, in a short time. Though she would’ve never admitted it, out of sheer fear of developing a Samaritan complex, her early childhood years, spent in the refugee camps of the Federation, had certainly instilled her with a certain sympathy for the downtrodden and isolated. An innate sense of attraction, towards these tormented souls, that had become a part of her subconscious, a long time ago.

Twitching slightly at the uncharacteristic outburst, Samantha had to laugh too, tuning into the sentiment Sarresh was currently indulging in. It was quite the feast to see. Sure, there had been incursions in the past, to rectify changes made to the timeline. Though for the crew of the Relativity, it was all the past, wasn’t it. Taking care of all that, certainly was a full-time job, but luckily, time was not an issue, for them. “I understand but … if you could intervene at any point in time, why not go back to foil the first infection? Hell, why not the formation of the grand darkness itself?” she was just spit balling here, making conversation. This was not her métier, Sarresh was the expert, even though he could not remember all of it. At any rate, she’d rather come up with a mutual effort, in the here and now, to counteract the parasites, than rely on someone from the future, wielding their overbearing power. In a way, it wasn’t fair to the present, to a concept called destiny, which she believed in firmly. Of course, that wasn’t very scientific.

“Ah yes, one of our kind’s brightest.” The diplomat nodded slowly, arching her plump lips in knowing agreement. Though he was better known in areas not pertaining directly to her duties, she appreciated him for the iconic figure he was. After all, science was some kind of unilateral language, sometimes utilized even in her arena, to further or influence negotiations. And she could, at the very least, appreciate it as a form of cummincation, that didn’t leave much to interpretation. Unlike her ignorance of the man’s second questions, nestled into the rhetoric of one. While her day was weighing on her a considerable bit, she currently appreciated the levity the conversation with Sarresh provided and had no intention to change that. There was no saying, once an obscene amount of delicious food and wine, had been added to the mix, that sentiment would not change. “Are there any kind of such iconic figures on your world? I understand not all races embrace the enchanting call of science as the ultimate means of societal advancement.” Actually quite a few races, in the known galaxy, had rather chosen to put their faith in spiritual believes. And quite literally so.

Letting out another bemused chuckle, Sam could not convey enough, how much she enjoyed the comfortable lightness of their back and forth, and how grateful she was for it. This had been exactly what she had needed. “I don’t know … I mean, humans eat land animals, so I think I couldn’t judge whether that is weird or not.” she smiled, deeming it unfair to give him the ol’ “You’re basically eating your kind.” speech. That could’ve been borderline offensive. “But I do love seafood too.” So maybe she was actually the one eating his kind, but she wasn’t just saying that. The diplomat was a rather picky eater, when it came to meats from the animals of the land, dealing with tendons, fat, and other imperfections. Those form the sea, however, usually had perfect, homogenous, strong meat … due to the need of being constantly on the move, she supposed. As the Ashreem posed his query, she narrowed her eyes for a moment, thinking on the question and judging his taste from purely superficial reasoning and things she knew about him up to this point.

“Well, if it’s fish, specifically, you’re in for, I would never turn down a Catalan fish pan – which is distinct from classic paella, in that it contains potatoes, not rice. If it’s more the shellfish variety you crave, there are a few delicious Talonian dishes, with noodles, I would always recommend. But they are spicy, if prepared right.” Obviously, seafood was, in turn, a subject the blonde knew a thing or two about, having explored it time of her life. Some of the best memories, actually, had come to conception over a plate of savory, steamy seafood in a small ramshackle kiosk, along some alien shore. “How about we chose each other’s seafood dish of the night?” she suggested with a daring grin, just as the waiter arrived, leaving Sarresh little way out.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #5 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

So much to cover, so much to expound upon. How to answer? How to tell her everything, and nothing, and it was all there and just out of reach. He smiled and shrugged and spread his arms again. Easy enough to answer one of the questions. "Well, the thing about these parasites are that they're damned good at keeping out of sight, until now. The incident at Niga was clearly not the first point that someone was infested, but we don't have that specific moment in time logged. We don't know when they first arrived, not really. Or at least, not when I got tapped for service so to speak. The Relativity acted and intervened at Niga because, from their point of view, that was the first notable disruption to the time stream. Any sort of smaller action taken prior was just...too well done to catch our attention. The enemy is crafty, and until they made their first, big play, we didn't know to  be looking for them. Crunching the numbers led us to intervene at Niga. Plus, temporal shielding would only protect the ship for so long from time shifts. At least, I think."

It was nice to be able to give a straight answer. So rare was that, when time travel was the subject of discussion. 

Nodding for a moment, Sarresh had steepled his fingers together. It appeared to be cultural exchange time, and that wasn't the worse thing in the world. "From what I can remember, and you'd be surprised how much about my former home that, for some damn reason, is fuzzy," he assumed it was the memory engram encoding. He assumed wrong. "We had a few scientists that postulated similar theorems to that of Albert Einstein, though to be fair our cultural awareness of such things as relativity - lowercase r, not the ship - is a more recent thing, so I can't say for sure the names will live into such a similar scope. Ven'tas Servitas, was his name. Or at least, as close an approximation as you or I could pronounce." He frowned and shrugged a bit at that, adding for clarification, "Our tongues are not long enough, nor do we possess the right sort of muscles in our throats to pronounce the word in my original tongue. For that matter, I can't speak it anymore myself. Whistles are all the wrong pitch."

There was that self deprecating humor again. Though the affirmation of just how far he had changed, and how little of him former self he had managed to reclaim did not immediately dampen his mood. Perhaps the company was enough to hold that at bay; or perhaps it might be better stated that he was making an effort on her behalf. She'd saught him out after learning who and what he was, instead of being a reasonably intelligent person and keeping a wide berth. So, he would indulge her, and himself, and enjoy her company. Even if she dodged his questions.

That's what you did when you cared about someone, and be it a fast forming...whatever it was...he did care. 

And he had judged correctly, when he'd offered to get input from her for what to eat for the meal that night. His lips curled into a small smile, that sparkled more in his strange eyes than on his face. A rare, unguarded moment, if a small one. Smiles still felt odd to his features, regardless of how he had been doing so more often these past few days. Perhaps, given time and a few more shared meals such as this, he might grow accustomed to it. Provided she didn't get rid of him at some point down the line. A train of thought that Sarresh rather wished had not just blown through his mental station. He scowled briefly, down at the table, and then up at the holographic waiter, that cheerfully asked if he could be of service. 

"Well, since we've decided to have fun with this," he gave a small nod toward Samantha, and spread his hands, "I have no idea what I will be having for dinner tonight, but please prepare Chilean Sea bass for my friend here. With some Pacifican Seaweed rolls," he paused, then nodded, adding, "In the Western enclave style, I think." He shot the diplomat an apologetic look. "I'll admit that I am quite the fan of the dish but I haven't the slightest idea what pairs well with it, when it comes to drinks. I think humans usually go for some kind of fermented grape juice? Do I have the right of that?"

He worked his jaw from one side to the other after asking the question, realizing it felt a little sore. He wasn't used to talking so much. So he let his mouth rest for a moment as he watched Samantha order for him in turn, as he had done. It was a plausible suggestion, and it had quite the potential to lead to some enjoyable new experiences. He'd had quite a few of those lately in her company, starting with that night they shared a bath together, which was both as intimate as it sounded, and at the same time not quite exactly as intimate is could have been implied. In any event, he was enjoying himself, a true rarity in this godforsaken century.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #6 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


As Samantha watched Sarresh, listening to his excited elaborations, radiating with such energy and panache – which she had never seen on the man before - her plump lips oscillated like sinus curves, as she pulled various parts of them in between her teeth, to gently gnaw on them in contemplation. Blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly, in an investigative capacity, that mirrored the sentiment of enjoying the man’s newfound excitement and vigour. He wasn’t the most outgoing & social, she had ascertained, not only from surveillance, but also his own personal relayed judgment. Temporal affairs were a subject he obviously knew a lot about and felt some kind of personal connection to, even though most of what he knew, ironically, was not readily available to the man. But rather stored away in some selective, futuristic mind lockdown. If only through his sharp perceptiveness and logical thinking, however, he was evidently quite skilled at putting the pieces and fragments together, that resurfaced now and then. A good analytic skill was obviously a staple in his line of work.

But, in all fairness, while she nodded gracefully, with a pleasant smile, at every and all of his narrations, the blonde diplomat did not understand all of it. She didn’t have to, either, to understand how much it meant to Sarresh. Maybe how much it even meant to him to be able to tell someone about it, someone who could appreciate it. And she did, Sam really did. She appreciated seeing this lightness come out in him, even though the topic was a dire one. But when the conversation turned more personal … and less ‘end of the life as we know it’-y … the commander’s true interest was piqued. And it was probably more evident now, in contrast to her previous sentiment, of mere polite attention. She didn’t know he was as detached from his heritage, as his entire exterior belied. It made her sad, a little bit, even more so since he was the only Ashreem she knew existed on the Theurgy. Disregarding of what he said about the virility of his tongue and the possible sexual implications of it, the diplomat rather focused on what she had read between the lines. Occupational hazard, probably.

“You’ve never thought about going back? Spending some time there, to reacquaint yourself with your heritage?” she wondered, especially since it may have aided in unearthing some more locked memories. Quite honestly, she had never heard much of the Ashreem home world before. Sure, she knew the basic gist about all Federation members, as part of her diplomatic education, but they had been accepted long before she had even been born. And they had never been a very … ‘active’ member. She also thought she remembered something about environmental troubles, when their species first sought admittance, so hopefully their planet was not a frozen rock by now. Which was really not an emotional hornet’s nest she wanted to poke into right now. Eventually, however, she had to let out a mild chuckle, followed by a toothy grin that was both bash- and joyful. “You said ‘we’.” she teased quietly, noting his confusion before elaborating. “You said ‘we’ don’t possess the right sort of muscles to pronounce the names of your people. You consider yourself a human now, for all intents and purposes?” she queried curiously. Not having been able to recall a previous situation, where she would’ve noticed the terminology of his words.

It was not meant as a way of judging, whether he deemed himself worthy to join the elite circle of humanity. But rather to gauge the sentiment of detaching himself from his true heritage, in a way. Which was perfectly fine and within the realm of free self-determination, which the Federation’s principles were built upon. It was just curious, she felt like, when there seemed so much to be proud of, being an Ashreem. And even if there wouldn’t have been, there must’ve been at least the same communal sense of innate connection to the species you were born as, no matter who they were. But it was in all honesty a sentiment she could only approach logically, not having ever experienced her body being changed almost entirely to that of another species, while her mind remained the same. It was an extraordinary circumstance, that only few could really sympathise with. So, any interrogation was solely motivated out of sheer interest, most of it into Sarresh, as a fascinating man.

Indulging in the jumbling of seafood choices, which had given the evening even more levity, Samantha was now more than ever reassured, that doing away with the quarrels of her day, in favour of focusing on something unrelated, had yielded the best results, in taking her mind off of them. Giving the man a reassuring brow wiggle, as he subscribed to the humoristic notion of her offered ploy, the blonde basked in the blissfulness of his newfound glee. Letting a small chuckle gush from her nostrils, with a closed lipped smile, the diplomat leaned back in her chair once more, comforted by the amusement over the situation at hand. “So, your plan is to order your favorite dish, anticipating that we will end up switching our orders.” she nodded, giving him a disarming look, as if she had seen right through him. Even if that had not been his true intention, it would be, for her mischievous argument’s sake. Agreeing with a second pleasant nod, the woman then gratified his initiative to voice an assumption of his own.

“A nice wine indeed. A dry Sauvignon Blanc, Sancerre region, if you have, or any from the Loire Valley. The mineral notes will pair nicely with the seafood. One bottle, two glasses.” she ordered, signaling a ‘V’ with two of her fingers, simply assuming for now, that Sarresh would join her in the full experience, while her attention had switched between him and the holo-steward, through that entire order, to gauge his reactions. Holding up her finger, as the computer-controlled program attempted to intervene, the blonde continued her – at this point – almost pretended order. “And the gentleman will have a serving of Pad Ki Mao, prawns, squid and scallops … easy on the spice.” she finished up, sending the hologram off. Only left to contemplate how big the chances were that they would have a bottle of authentic central French wine, or even its statistics in the database, for a replicated approximation. But given Sarresh’s prompt, she had reacted in kind. Maybe a little over the top so. The dish, however, was well within the replicator’s capabilities. That, she knew. And she also knew how spicy the original programming was. Or maybe that was just the part of her genes that was Vulcan and very taste and smell sensitive.

“Getting muscle ache already?” she quipped, taking his humorous jaw gymnastics in. “Maybe we should stay away from temporal affairs related topics for a bit.”

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #7 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

Samantha - he refused to think of her as Lt. Commander Rutherford when they were off duty - had raised very good point, and one that Sarresh had not fully considered, even  as he had said the words. At the time he'd rocked back in his chair, visibly surprised at the revelation. He had said 'we' and not 'humans'. Her pointing that out to him was...not exactly welcome. But at the same time not unwelcome. Sarresh bit his lip in an uncharacteristically vulnerable gesture as he pondered the deeper implications of his words, and privately admitted that Samantha must have been one hell of a diplomat, because she did not miss a single beat, picking up on that very small, but very significant nuance in his statement.

Blowing out a short puff of air, Sarresh answered her question delicately, with considerable more care than he'd used prior. Almost as if he did not want to put voice to some of the greater implications. "My own identity is....well, complicated. I think I only meant to address the fact that, neither yourself, nor I, posses the proper throat and tongue structure to better emulate the speech patterns of my native tongue. Ah," he stopped and raised a finger, wagging it slightly. "You see. There it is again, my native tongue. I still view the language I spent most my life speaking fluently as my natural speech, even though my body is not capable of reproducing it with any real clarity. 

"I am clearly no longer Ash'reem, in any form save perhaps the shared and somewhat repressed memory of the culture I was raised in, and the ghost impulses of a body no longer mine. And yet, I am not sure I can truly be considered human, no matter what a bio scan would say. I am...well, I once alluded to myself as Frankenstein's Monster. I read the novel, after I was...rebuilt. It still seems somewhat fitting." He flashed her a very soft, very careful smile, "Though I appreciate that I am perhaps not as universally misunderstood by those around me as the creation in that book was."

Letting out another small sigh, he shrugged his shoulders and addressed the first question she had asked him. "I would be an outcast among my own people more readily than among yours. Even now that I can breathe under water again, I would be a deformed, misshapen thing, to be pitted, or avoided. At least within the wide spread of humanity my differences are not so readily visible." It almost pained him that he was more akin to that monster from the novel among those he'd grown up with, than those he served with now. He spread his hands out, and noted with a trace of amused irony, "Besides, I cannot return to Ashkara in any event. Not now. not while we are hunted by those foul things that lurk in the shadows. After, maybe," he frowned. "If there is an after, and by the gods I am fighting to make it so, perhaps I will return one last time, to say good bye to the planet. Not at all that easy a thing to do alone."

He hadn't intended to make it an invitation, merely a simple observation. How it was taken was entirely out of his hands however. And the Waiter was swiftly approaching, had saved him any further comment on the subject. Instead, as he had bent to conversation of food as a way to further distract Samantha from whatever had troubled her about the days duty shift, he too let her wit and banter pull him away from murky, dark waters. 

An eyebrow quirked on his forehead - he rather liked doing that more around the diplomat, knowing that she was part Vulcan and spread his hands again as he leaned back into his chair. "I'm afraid you give me too much credit, Samantha. I'm not nearly clever enough to have planned such a thing. Besides, I fully intend to eat whatever it is you select for me. I'm sure it will prove to be invigorating." Irony of ironies, he had no idea that those words could be taken in an entirely different context.

As it was, he listened with rapt attention as she playfully ordered up the meal of the evening, including a small detour onto the subject of wines that paired well with seafood. Alcohol was - well, it felt like relatively new territory for him, in so much as he did not greatly remember imbibing when he was growing up on the Ash'reem home world, and so little of his time aboard the Relativity remained to him that he could not judge if he had been a teetotaler or a wino, or something in between, as he was now. In any event, he favored her with a small nod of his head when she specified two glasses, noting the way the holographic waiter patiently ...waited. 

Running his tongue over his teeth, behind his closed lips, Sarresh pondered the order she lay before him. Thai food was not something he had very much experience with. However, he had put himself at her mercy so to speak, and was genuinely interested in exploring what did and did not appeal to him any more. And the replicators on this ship managed a reasonably passable facsimile of what he had grown up eating, he wagered that that the woman had little interest in sucking down a still living fish, a delicacy from his world that tasted...rather too floral to his new taste buds to be truly pleasant. 

The little hologram tottered off, even though Sarresh was sure that it had already relayed the order to whatever system was going to replicate the food, or acquire the alcohol, should there be a bottle of the genuine artificial on hand. For a Starfleet vessel, that was supposed to run exclusively on synthehol, the bars of this place - especially the Below Decks Lounge - carried an astonishing assortment of real, unadulterated alcohol, that lacked the useful chemical nuance of the synthehol, and whose effects could not be simply shaken off by an effort of will, or the spike of adrenaline that often accompanied a red alert klaxon.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, perhaps that is best," Sarresh agreed, returning to the conversation at hand. Time travel discussions tended to either bore the other party eventually, or give them a nasty head ache and neither of those were something he wished to inflict upon Samantha. The fact of the mater was that Sarresh greatly appreciated the invitation to dinner she had extended prior, and that she had kept the appointment at all, given everything. Again, he wanted to prove at her for a moment, to dig into the depths of what had happened on the bridge, but a sense of caution welled up within him. The subject was not one that she wished to indulge in, at least, not yet, so he had to tred with care as to how to broach it. 

Which was not exactly his strong suit. Sarresh tended to blunder his way through social gatherings as the little niceties went over his head (such as what constituted a double entendre, as way of rather recent example). Thus faced with the dilemma, he avoided the subject all together and instead probed a different tract. "Honestly it's just been a while since I've given the jaw a good work out. I don't talk much down in the lab. No one to talk to, not really." And another implication sailing over his head as to what else he might put his jaw to use for. Which would have been just as actuate - he hadn't done much of that lately either.

"You seemed rather knowledgeable about the wine to pair with the dinner tonight. I'll admit to being a novice on the subject. Have you had much experience with wines? Or uh...gourmet food? Is that the right word? Is it a pastime of yours?" Here, his lack of social interaction of late had left him floundering as how to smoothly slide onto another subject. Oh well, he'd given it his best shot and if it landed dead in the water he could always just watch her in silence. Wasn't like she was hard to look at, far form it, in fact. He found himself idly wondering if he had under dressed, even though the homespun Bajoran attire was both comfortable and a step up from what he usually loafed about in when off duty. Nothing at all compared to the outfit she wore now. 

Then again, he reminded himself, memory flashing back to an alien ocean they were leaving further and further behind with each passing second, it's not like clothes really matter at this point. Not when we've seen each other in nothing but skin and seawater.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #8 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


Samantha didn’t exactly feel fazed, by the possibility that Sarresh would consider being put on the spot. After ten years in the diplomatic corps, beating around the bush just wasn’t fun anymore. That, and six years of failed attempts of getting a semblance of a social life back. There was much more to be told about a person’s reaction to a direct question, than a round-the-back, disguised inquiry. Noting his tea-kettle moment, and the way his voice danced more delicately across the words he laid out subsequently, the diplomat had seen enough people disguising their truth behind a vail of pseudo-concessions. But it was not his defiance, to touch on the deeper subject, that tickled her curiosity, but the very truth hidden beneath, that obviously seemed so daunting, he still did not feel comfortable laying it bare. Granted, they only knew each other for a few days, and the blonde clearly had a penchant for pressing on like a boa, once she discovered even the slightest weakness, the faint smell of hidden agenda. An occupational hazard, no doubt.

But then there were also the sentiments that DID get conveyed, to distract from the unsaid, which in their own held – as distractions went – a slew of superficial information. Nodding slowly, she appreciated the candor, nonetheless. Only able to assume what it must’ve felt like to be part of neither species, not really. Even though he would’ve much easier passed for the kind of her own. With some fancy, beautiful eyes, mind you. But the subsequent relativization, was a lukewarm excuse, for all intents and purposes. Their current situation did not prohibit the hypothetical scenario, if he truly were keen to explore it. Again, not meant as a judgment, but rather an observation, of his intricate layers of defense and evasion, that seemed to come down harder, as deeper they went. “I am not really familiar with the Ash’reem in detail. Maybe it was presumptuous of me to infer that they would accept one of their own, if even only in spirit, rather than biology, but xenophobia is still a widespread concept, I’m am embarrassed to say, even among our people.” she replied warmly, implying a cease fire to her probing on the subject, if only in the way she adopted his subconscious notion, of counting the man towards the human species. If that so was the affiliation, he chose for himself.

“It’s a date, then.” Samantha nodded confidently, making sure to convey that her decision was not an offer, in reply to his admission to it not being an easy thing to do alone. “We both know I can hold my breath, as much as I can my own, in bringing two species together, on the same table.” she chuckled, giving the sentiment a lighter air. “Are their tables on Ashkara?! Well, we’ll just bring one, as a sign of good faith. Maybe one that doesn’t float.” There was no need to hide behind the safe coat of reasonability and their current situation, as a means of lowering one’s expectations and stay ‘real’. Sure, if you didn’t hope for anything, then you couldn’t get that hope thrown back into your face with a sardonic laugh. But it was also all too easy to become the herald of your own, self-fulfilled fate, that way. At any rate, he did not have to answer, as it had not been a question, even as the waiter had appeared by their table. But there was a part of the woman that expected some sort of welcome acknowledgement, if there was anything she had learned about the mysterious man, it was that he conveyed much more to the people around him, than he realized, or even allowed, himself.

“Yeah, I don’t think cleverness is really an issue.” she laughed, appraising the staff hologram with a gleeful grin, that was surely lost somewhere in the biomimetic matrix, that controlled it. “Cunningness … perhaps.” she subsequently insinuated, continuing her theory, that the man was capable of far more, than he gave himself credit for, but also was, if anything, limited by his steadfast set of morale.

Ultimately, their respective orders for one another, were placed in a social ploy, that surely didn’t make any sense to the AI, they related it to. But it also didn’t have to, at the same time. In Samantha’s opinion, they could dress Thea up and give her some quarters, potentially bestow her with the human sentiments, that made it easier for some to interact with her, but she was still a machine, created to serve them. So not even a second thought was waisted, as the hologram left, and the blonde returned her attention to an actual living being, of great intrigue. She smiled warmly at his concession, taking herself a little bit of pride, for giving the man’s jaws a little bit of extra workout, the past few days. As saucy as that sounded in her head. Luckily, she had not said it out loud. “Well, we’ll continue to train you.” she chuckled, referring to the two times they had previously, spent talking to one another … and then a notion, that could’ve been considered ‘jaw-workout’, just as well.

Raising her brows slightly, at his astute observation, the diplomat was reminded of a part to her personality, that had become second nature so seamlessly, that it didn’t usually strike her as anything special anymore. But the revelation, posed by Sarresh, made her nod slowly, in agreement. “Well, my diplomatic training actually consisted of a varied education in culinary expertise and interspecies etiquette. But more influential, I guess, would be my grandmother being French, actually … she grew up in Orléans. She’s an inexhaustible fountain of knowledge on the wines and delicacies of the region. You know, speaking of which …” the blonde perked up in her seat, raising her arm once more to the departing holo steward. “Garçon!” she cheered, which had become sort of a sour French term, to be thrown around at Below Decks, since she’d erroneously addressed Deacon as such earlier, though the computer program surely didn’t mind, and the proprietor seemed nowhere in earshot. The hologram simply ushered back dutifully, without any complaints.

“Also, add a plate of Escargots for appetizers, ahead of the meal.” Samantha ordered gleefully, giving Sarresh a subsequent, cute wink and even sweeter shoulder wiggle. It was a dish she usually pulled out to alienate a badly going date, or unwanted suitor. But in this case, she was actually whole-heartedly convinced, that it could be something that someone else but her, would equally enjoy. Given the man’s aquatic heritage, mollusks must’ve been somewhat of a staple, in his former dietary scheme. “Could be considered more of an originally Alsatian delicacy, than central French, but in the grander scheme of the galaxy, that’s barely a distinction.” she smiled, utterly complacent with how the evening was going, and how it had already, successfully, steered her away from the cold hard light of the day. There was certainly a commonality, in all of their encounters so far, as they had consistently ended up in a good time.

“So, the diving trip had been interesting.”

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #9 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

Exploring one's concept of self and facing down the implications of a society that is somewhat insular by the sheer nature of how they survive and the environment they live in was...unpleasant, and not what Sarresh had thought would be the main thrust of this 'dinner date' as the Terran's would call it. This kind of reflection was likely as not the kind of thing one did late at night when one could not sleep, staring out at the stars passing by, or if it were to be addressed in a healthier path, by sitting down with a professional counselor. A new found friend who happened to be a diplomat was not the ideal method, but at the same time, Sarresh found that he at least felt...well, he didn't like to use the word safe, but it was the best word for it. In so much as he felt comfortable discussing it at all, in any event.

He felt safe discussing such truly personal and downright scary subjects with Samantha. Which was kind of scary in its own right, but the time traveler wasn't going to pry further down that train of thought and sort out why he was that comfortable around someone so new in his life. You share a bathtub, a dive, and suddenly someone becomes Important.

And given by her ready acceptance of the implied offer to accompany him to Ash'kara in the event they weren't all dead in the next few weeks, or locked in some Federation penal colony after saving the galaxy, it would seem that the Diplomat felt at least somewhat similar. So it was with a smile that he said, "A date indeed. There are tables, yes. Usually made of rock.

"As we both like coral reefs," if ever there was some subtext, that was it, "if nothing else I can show you some of the ones near where I grew up." He had faint memories of that at least. He did feel a need to add, as if to explain, without really doing that good a job of it, "The Ash'reem...have grown very insular in recent years. They reached out to the greater Federation after first contact for need in dealing with a genetic issue that resulted in decreasing population numbers. Not because we - they - wished to be good neighbors. My current condition would likely not allow me to directly contribute to fixing that particular problem and would just add to the alienation." He wasn't sure he could have kids at all, but he was fairly sure he could not do so with an Ash'reem any more, and would be seen all the more as an outcast because of that. But saying that bluntly didn't feel right, so he was happy to focus on matters of food for the moment. 

So he let her take a stab or two at him, with a mock glare his only real response, as they got down to the oh so serious business of ordering dinner. And all the while the back and forth by play had him struggling to keep a straight face in ways that absolutely no one had been able to manage since he'd returned to the twenty fourth century. Say what one might about the ships diplomatic department head, she had a whit about her that Sarresh was coming to truly appreciate, even when on the receiving end of her more pointed thrusts. He even worked his jaw side to side at her training comment, griping his chin in one hand to further exaggerate the movement. 

A slow, smug smile played across Sarresh's lips as he scored a point of his own, surprising the blonde with a bit of his powers of observation, and he found himself leaning forward with eager amusement, listening to her every word as she gave him just a little bit more of her own history. Adept as she was at prying bits and pieces out of him, Sarresh in turn felt like something of a novice when it came to gaining any insight about her past. Getting a bit more out of her now felt like progress, and the it was utterly lost on him that she had been doing more of the same with him, and deriving that same sense of satisfaction in the act. Something they shared in common that he was utterly unaware of. That Sarresh had only a very passing knowledge of why having a French grandmother would make one more versed in wine didn't really matter. Something about that fact nagged at the back of his mind, but he was distracted by her calling back out to the AI, that had made a fair amount of progress across the lounge. 

The result of that action was multi-fold. First, it drew attention to their table, something that Sarresh tended to avoid ever since a literal cult had developed around the notion that he was some messianic savior. They hand hung on, and misinterpreted, his every word, to the detriment of themselves and the crew. Sarresh was thus somewhat rather twitchy about unwanted attention. More than one person took note of Sarresh and Samantha, sharing a table and a meal. Conclusions would likely as not be drawn. 

The second result was that Sarresh completely forgot that Paris was the capital of not only the Federation, but of the ancient Earth nation of France. And that Paris had been bombed. It completely slipped his mind, for better or worse. 

Lastly, the result was more mundane: the AI returned and took note of the additional order with a programmed smile and an eagerness to serve that seemed utterly artificial. The lights were on but no one was really home there in the waiter. The order peaked Sarresh's interest, and the wiggle of Samantha's shoulders drew his attention away from the feeling of being watched, and back to more mundane, and considerably more pleasant matters. 

"Since I have no idea what Alsatian's are, or why they are different from French, and what exactly Escargot is, I'll simply have to take your word for it, and see where this culinary adventure leads." That could have come out as rather sarcastic. But the smile on his face, the light in his eyes and the mirth in his tone betrayed just how eager he was to see this meal to fruition, and to try what she had selected for him. They laughed and smiled for a bit more, and then turned back to the one subject that lay between them, not quite like a heavy weight, but something that could not really be ignored any longer. It had not been the reason that the dinner had been set up, as they'd scheduled this slightly before the events to be discussed, but both had known that they would have to address it at some point.

"Ah, yeah. Interesting is a good word for it. The Reef." Even Sarresh could hear how he'd capitalized the coral formation that he and Samantha, along with two pilots, one of large craft, one of fighter craft, had gone diving around on Aldea, before the ship had been called away from the safe haven by Klingon politics and parasitic machinations. The Reef. The diving trip. Skimming along the oceans of Aldea, and then diving beneath. The rush of water on his naked skin, filling his lungs. Swimming, unhindered through an alien ocean, watching bubbles rush over Samantha's equally bare skin. Darting around his three companions with a fluid grace he'd not been able to indulge in for so long, dancing along the coral formations....

"You know, so far this is the least submerged of our encounters to date," Sarresh noted with some small amusement. Though the night was still young and he had no expectations of ending up back in a tub with the enchanting woman, he had to admit to himself that he would neither be surprised or upset by such an eventuality. He was dancing around the matter at hand however, as he traced the rim of his glass with a finger tip and chanced a look from the liquid inside of it up to her, meeting her gaze for a moment. "That trip didn't go quite as planned. I'll admit that when I signed on for it, I didn't really have any expectations. I just...saw your name there and took a risk.

"All the same, I certainly never imagined it would be quite that eventful." The smile was a small one, but there was a world of shared, silent context behind it.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #10 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


Slowly but steadily, Samantha was getting more and more excited by the concept of seeing Sarresh’s home world, and meeting his people. But not because he kept adding zest to the euphoria, but because it became more and more apparent that she wanted to know more about him, and that it would just be a perfect opportunity to do so. There was obviously a level of unspoken truths to the topic and she couldn’t fight the professional curiosity of wanting to unearth those, to better understand his motivations. Though other than in the arena of duty, she’d not use it against him, to further her own agenda and that of the Federation. Taking up contact to a more elusive member of the big union, was merely an added bonus, that she could not deny some savoury deliciousness either. He explained a little bit why the Ash’reem were not – what she had already established – the most active members of their interplanetary alliance. And it made every sense in the world … or galaxy.

While one could easily make an argument for all the times the diplomatic council had accelerated a race’s ascend into the ranks of the Federation council for selfish reasons, be it resources, manpower, or scientific breakthroughs, there also had been a few of those membership that drew favours more into the other direction, leaving the magistracy in Paris with naught more than a feeling of benevolence, towards the growing galactic family. “Well, you’ll have me there too … and from what I can tell, even former Ash’reems find it hard to alienate themselves from me.” she chuckled, with a mischievous ring to her verbal palpitations and the way her blues eyes sparkled in joy. “Or I could drive them to the brink of joining the Ferengi instead … all it possible. Which is why diplomacy is so exciting.” The diplomat smiled, a little self-servingly, by also alluding to the fact that sticking with her, could yield a similar excitement. Naturally though, they also moved on from this subject, in the grand play of their dinner date, that needed no cues or interjections to break an awkward silence or misconstrued argument. To put it in terms of one of their mutually most favourite elements: It just flowed!

Samantha could understand, that her explanation, aside of the Starfleet education one, didn’t reciprocate as much understanding in the man, as she had intended to. At the same time, she had not wanted to bore him with added detail and background, patronizing him with facts he had already learned, or picked up on his travels through space and time. But if it warranted to be necessary, she would gladly elaborate on certain topics that still tickled his interest. As holding a healthy and flowering conversation went. “The Alsace is a province in eastern France, and as earth culture persistently goes, people are still very distinct on which region they originated from, or their cuisine, wine, tradition, for that matter. Much more so than any other species I have encountered.” And just like that, the blonde had already felt a little bit like she had been overly didactic to the Ash’reem. But the fact that she was looking forward to seeing his reactions to fried snails in herb butter, certainly broke that layer of clouds like nothing, letting the sun of their interactions shine brightly once more.

Watching the man react to her latest shift in their conversation topic, the commander smiled comfortably in the revelation of having struck another chord, that was just so relevant to her as well. The way he made their trip sound like a movie, or a holo novel, made her chuckle. It could’ve surely worked for either. It had been interesting for herself in many regards too, that weren’t limited to swimming naked with other officer she had barely known yet – though one better than the others. The blonde had certainly adopted quite the devil-may-care attitude about her own person, in recent years … since Brody’s death, to be exact. That had also transpired down to being naked around others, it simply hadn’t bothered her, though the novelty had still been, that the situation had never presented itself in such a way. Taking that into consideration, it had definitely been a first … and only one of many, on that particular day. Another innately funny remark from Sarresh, that reverberated so effortlessly that she could not help but prescribe little intent to its humoristic notion, made her laugh in the most genuine of ways. A dazzling notion, sending it’s sparkles and fireworks all the way from the corners of her rosy lips and ivory teeth to the white of her eyes and the blue of her irises.

“Yet.” she replied dryly, to this comment about not being submerged this time. So far, they were two for two, and one of these times, they had not started out wet either – but with the clear prospect thereof, admittedly. Who knew what the future would hold, honestly? Sarresh himself, aside. They might just get doused in a spray of wine from a clumsy hologram or finish the evening off with another hot tub aconversation. Watching the oddly contemplative notion of his finger tip against the rim of his glass and the stolen glances that preceded it, Samantha couldn’t help but send him a warm smile back. “So, at least you planned to see me again.” she replied quietly, making a point of calling the man out time and again. So far she had simply loved every step forward she had dragged him, and even more so, those that he had taken on his own motivation. Letting another chuckle part her plump lips, teeth sparkling like the crowns of ocean waves, the diplomat shook her head in demure bemusement. “You’ll get used to it.” Because hanging around her, usually turned out anything but boring or predictable. That combined with his inability to create a ploy of any sort, and you got a box of mixed chocolates that was both surprising and delicious every time anew.

And as a moment of silence ensued, where aquatic, turquoise eyes, rested on their human counterparts in color and function, the holo waiter came back with the first part of their order, gently interjecting itself into the moment. Placing down a few coasters, then glasses, pouring Samantha a sip or two into her glass before erecting itself once more expectantly. Detaching herself from the comfort of her backrest, the blonde leaned forward, grabbing the glass with a thankful nod, to the mix of forcefields and photons, that were registered somewhere in the sensor suite of the place. Taking a sip, letting the liquid roll across the different receptor areas of her tongue, she distinguished many of the finer notes that mixed into the grander bouquet, belying the intentionality of a wine with certain hints and nuances. Almost feeling the mineral components like microscopic crystals, dancing cross her tongue in a. tickling ballet. “It’s perfect.” she ultimately deducted, giving the steward a non-verbal go ahead. Placing her own glass down, they filled both of them halfway and then left the bottle. But before vanishing once more entirely, the hologram also produced a previously hidden plate of escargot, which it then placed at the center of the table, followed by a small canvas bag of sliced baguette.

The herbal scent, paired with the frying aroma and fresh bakery, instantly made the diplomat’s mouth water with anticipation. It had been a while since she’d tasted the food of her childhood, as it was not very popular among the more regular circles of Starfleet or other aliens. Her taste, in that regard, was probably more comparable to that of a Ferengi, than a standard human. Reaching out for her glass once more, however, now heavy with the weight of added vino, the woman reached it out to clink with Sarresh, before raising the glass once more in obeisance and subsequently taking another sip.

“So …” she started out, not having even entirely swallowed the wine yet. “… what do you think?” Tipping the glass in her hand into the direction of the dish casually, she curiously watched the man’s reaction to at least a visual inspection. Leaning forward again, gently placing her drink down, she picked up one of the two-pronged forks and snail tongs that lined the slotted plate. “Here, let me show you … you use the tongs to steady it, and then twist the snail out of its shell like this.” Sticking the slender fork into the opening, the officer skillfully unearthed an unsightly, yet juicy mollusk, sprinkled with chopped, fresh herbs and the glistening residue of molten butter. It smelled delicious. Pulling the little treat off the tongs with her teeth, the blonde chewed on the soft, mushy texture with pleasure, letting the different earthy flavors invigorate her gums. “Then, you can dip the rest of the herb butter out of the shell with a snipped of bread.” she mumbled through the chewing notion, like a true Ferengi would've, too, before proceeding to demonstrate, albeit opting to instead pour the butter onto the corner of a slice. “Admittedly though, it’s not a sea creature by any measure.” Which may have been the only detriment to her logic of Sarresh being into the dish, by sheer biological predisposition, through his former species.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #11 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

For better or for worse (Be it his own sake, or the hypothetical Ash'reem that might encounter her in the future) Samantha Rutherford was damned endearing to Sarresh. That was something utterly out of the ordinary for him, and he found himself shaking his head more than once during their rolling conversation, smiling behind a closed fist or steeple fingers. More than once he had to stop himself from taking a sip from his glass lest he swallow it and and spew it back out in a laugh, or choke it down. His shoulders shook a bit, and over all he looked...relaxed. At ease. Like he had in the tub, nights before, when they'd first met. This wasn't to say that he didn't try and get his own quips into the conversation, though she seemed far more versed at the verbal art than he. Sarresh did manage a note of wry wit, declaring that, "The Ferengi would simply try to sell us sand from a desert planet at as an aphrodisiac. No, I think the Federation is a better home. Try to keep that in mind if we ever get to splashdown on Ash'kara."

Needless to say it was an interesting prospect for the future, and even if the odds were...astronomical that this theoretical trip would happen, he took some comfort in the clearly present eagerness to make the endeavor. And the conversations natural ebb and flow, from one homeworld to the other was endearing in its own right. Give and take. Quid pro quo, or something along those lines. Sarresh's Latin was understandably abysmal. For him the fact that she was willing to elaborate on some of his own confusion was a good sign. 

Swirling the glass in his hands, the once and future amphibian listened with rapt attention. Humanity was a many faceted species, and it seemed they clung to traditions and micro cultures with a ferocity seldom seen in the rest of the Galaxy. A human might see herself as French first, Terran Second, and so forth and so on. An Ash'reem was an Ash'reem was an Ash'reem, in so far as Sarresh was concerned. "My people have some clannish aspects to them, but they are not so tied to...a history of location as it seems to be with humans. We're more like Klingon's in that case I suppose. Blargh, son of blah, of the house who cares and the like." He chuckled a bit and shrugged his shoulders. "We bash our heads together less. And...given the decreasing populations, that sort of behavior became an early casualty in any event."  No, the Ash'reem thought and identified as a species first and foremost - what was best for the whole.

Which in full reflection was not something he was really going to be able to be a part of going forward. Not the greatest realization. Thankfully, there were other, more pleasing things to focus on. Waves and water, bubbles and skin. Fluid grace and a sense of close connection that could not easily be put into words by the man, none the less manifested itself in the slow nod of a head, the long look of eye contact, and the snort of laughter that escaped after a certain one word observation. "Yet," he noted and agreed, raising his glass in something of a salute. 

"You don't miss much, do you Samantha?" An honest enough question, and an open observation at the same time. He gave his shoulders a small shrug. She told him he'd get used to it, and after a moment, he decided - to himself - that was fine with him. There was an implication there that he would allow himself the risk of looking forward to. "I think perhaps you underestimate the impression you made when we met. It was something of a first for me. I'm not one to make overtures lightly, and what you did was simply fascinating. So yes. I planned to see you again. Still do, come to think of it. I trust that's not an issue." He let his eyebrows rise and fall, and pointed the bottom of his glass toward her, as she smiled and chuckled. The silence fell, and there was almost a warmth to the heavy weight that followed. It was not awkward, or unpleasant. Far from it in fact. It was sense of comfort that existed, and he watched her, watching him. For a few moments, the word around them simply ceased to matter. 

Of course, that was when the waiter showed back up. What followed had the feeling of ritual, or ceremony, and Sarresh's brow furrowed as he watched, his eyes darting back and forth, between the hologram and Samantha, tracking the path of her glass, the tilt of the wine bottle. The little nod she gave the man made of light and force, and the way it smiled, as if pleased with her being pleased. 'perfect' he assumed, was just that, and he felt his eyebrows ride up a bit. He had come to figure out that Samantha did not say things she did not mean. Well, thats promising, he noted, perking up a bit as the hologram filled the glasses to the midway point - he assumed there was a reason it didn't add more, so he didn't ask - and set down a plate that must have been hidden within its holographic matrix. 

"Fascinating," the word came out of his lips in a soft whisper, spoke so low that he failed to realize he'd voiced aloud his appreciation for the ceremony unfolding before him. He looked up at Rutherford, taking his queues from her. Mirroring her actions, he let his glass tap against hers, heard the musical chime it produced, teasing out a 'huh' from him, with his head tilted to one side, and then, brought it to his lips. Gauche as he was, he failed to properly sniff the wine first, not realizing that was an important step. A shame too, given his heightened olfactory senses. He'd learn, with time. All the same he swirled it around his mouth and swallowed, started to answer, and then stopped, realizing she was talking about the meal before them and not the wine settling into the pit of his stomach with its own noticeable presence. It lacked that headed burn of Saurian Brandy, or the hoppy bite of Andorian Ale, but still had its own filling weight to bring to the table, and a pleasing tingle to his tongue. 

"Well, it doesn't seem to be moving, so our Klingon guests won't like it. Sorry," he added hastily, You want honest impressions and I'm making bad jokes. It looks appetizing enough. Not unlike some species on my planet. Do you crack the shell open with your jaw, or do you imbibed them whole?" To ask was to gain knowledge, and Sam seemed more than ready to demonstrate. Again, fascinating was an apt description for what happened. He watched every motion, analyzing her with a focus not unlike that which he would apply to the time stream, with all his tinkering tools of the time travel trade down in his lab.  He mapped her movements like he mapped the flow of history, committing it to his admittedly pockmarked memory. And then he blinked in surprise and looked down at the little shelled creatures sitting in their butter bath.

"They're not aquatic? Are you quite sure?" Picking up one of the two pronged forks, he poked at the outside shell of one of the morsels on the plate, with a 'tink, tink, tink' sound coming from the gesture, the tines plinking off the shell. "Of course you're sure. That's so strange. They certainly look like something that I might find swimming about on Ash'kara. Hmmm,"

What followed was Sarresh's attempt to mimic the ships chief diplomat in prying forth the edible meat from the less than digestible shell, with mixed results. He somehow managed to spill some of the butter out of the shell and over his fingertips, leaving them slick and glistening, but still got the actual snail into his mouth. He bit down as she had, slurped it back, and worked it around his mouth with an exaggerated motion that made him look not unlike a cow chewing cud. There was an overwhelming flavor of butter and herb, which washed over his pallet, though the texture of it was somewhat malleable and almost, but not quite slimy. He swallowed and took a bit of the fresh bread into his hand, managing to mop up the last of the butter, without too much mess.

Rubbing his slick fingers against his thumbs, he said, "Huh. Not bad. It seems to absorb most of the flavor of whatever it is soaked in? And you said this is a regional specialty on Earth? Is it widely consumed?" As he asked, he picked up another of the tiny Gastropods and attempted to break it down  with less of a mess. Popping the morsel into his mouth he swallowed and noted, "Well, that's just foolish of them. I rather like these. I suppose its rude to just user your fingers and pop these into your mouth like that over heated corn snack I see humans eating all the time?" He fiddled with a bit of bread, and then added, "The texture reminds me of a kind of mollusk we have back home. Those we usually just ate whole though. The shell is much softer than it looks, and its main defense is the venom that it pumps out over the softer membrane. Unfortunately for it, Ash'reem are immune to the effects. 

"Well, mostly. It does make the tongue tingle and turns it an odd shade of yellow." He ran his tongue over his teeth, and then flashed her a bit of grin. "But otherwise the only side effect is a satisfied stomach."

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #12 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


Samantha liked that daring reassurance on the side of Sarresh, towards her. It spoke of a level of growing confidence and acquaintance with her, that she could only feel hopeful about. Hopeful that it would be a mantra that would flow into his daily routines and casual interactions with the crew. He’d certainly needed it, by her judgment, and everyone else would only be so lucky to get to interact more openly with the former Ash’reem. But ultimately, she merely nodded, with a smile, to reaffirm her commitment to keeping Ash’kara in the Federation. Even though the potential of a Ferengi takeover had been a hypothetical quip and they likely both knew it was. She had no issue playing along with his newfound humorous candor. A diplomatic incident, that would have their membership questioned, was definitely off the table.

Nodding further, the bright smile softening into a complacent sense of interest, the diplomat took stock of the political and societal comparisons as part of her professional ethos. As it was quite an interesting relation to draw, one that the Klingons undoubtedly would deny ferociously. But as the man continued to talk about bashing heads, the blonde considered to maybe having to rethink her judgment passed on an entire civilization, by merely one former member of their species, who had only been pleasant and peaceful. But in any case, this was not a matter of official duty, so she felt like cutting herself some slack on the front of knowing all the details.

Tilting her head ultimately, in a sense of embarrassment and demureness, a stifled smile tucking at her features, as blue eyes temporarily evaded the man’s probing glances, the diplomat was delightfully aware of the irony, in which the tables had shifted between them. How Sarresh had, in a burst of confidence, spun the slightly interrogative quality of their conversation, back around on her. Which she assumed, could’ve been a coy plot to show her, that he was not going to merely sit there and tolerate it. Yet conveyed in a considerate and respectful way, that befitted the gentle nature of the man with the magnificent eyes. A sentiment he gladly doubled down upon, now that he had her on the defense, in the stranglehold of his charms, with more compliments and heart-warming revelations. The kind that she would’ve never indulged in by her own volition. That would’ve just been narcissistic, something she was wholly allergic to.

Towards the end of that monologue, however, the blonde found herself truly dumbfounded and speechless. Plump lips slightly agape, as she looked at him point-blank, tilting her head sideways with a gentle twitch, as if to mentally double take all that had just been said. It certainly took her a moment to sift through all the lines, in order to land on there having been a metaphorical question placed at the end. Deliberately? “Um … no, no issue at all.” she replied, slightly flustered, scrunching up her face in a self-ironic shake, overcompensating in her display of how little of an issue it actually was. Only barely falling short of engaging in a whole bit of babbling on about how much of a non-issue it was, before finding a dark hole to crawl into. Brushing her full lips together, pressing all color temporarily from them, before it sparked back in even more vigor, as the tender cushions were released, she made headwind in composing herself, finally. Now, she truly felt like they had switched seats, metaphorically. Clearing her throat idly, she hoped that would somehow render the moment forgotten, though the underlying sentiment was one she’d keep with her for a long time, no lie.

They were ultimately presented with their food and drinks, which did a decent job in switching the page to a new chapter, as they chinked for good fortune. And as Sarresh appraised the first course, or appetizer, Samantha gladly found back to her confidence and upper hand. There was something about the roles, they were meant to play, that felt comfortable, she had learned, and how alien it could feel, quite literally, to find oneself in the other’s shoes. But she had also garnered a distinct understanding over how pleasant it could be too, to see the world as Lieutenant Morali. “Not the ones I was trying to impress.” She shook her head with a light chuckle at his comment about the Klingons not enjoying dead animals. Hoping that the previously established similarity with the Ash’reem didn’t include this culinary detail. Then again, it was probably hard for an aquatic species to get acquainted with cooked food, now that she thought of it, unless they made a habit of boiling shrimps over submerged volcanic vents.

“Quite sure.” She smiled, the savory flavor of butter and herbs still dominant on her taste buds. “Aside of the French term ‘escargot’, they are actually also called Burgundy or vineyard snails. Because they really live on the hills where the wine is cultivated. So, you see, it all comes together in the end.” Raising her glass once more for an indicative tip, the blonde finally washed down some of the flavor with the mineral tastes she had known the Sauvignon Blanc would lend to their choice of foods tonight. “The herbs traditionally used, parsley and thyme, actually too grow around the roots of grapevines, and are even a favorite food of the snails.” she explained further, having noted previously that Sarresh seemed to have subdued his desire to learn more about the subjects they talked about, in favour of keeping the conversation going. “The kind of sick twist the Klingons might actually appreciate.” she quipped, chuckling at her own expense.

Picking up another escargot and going through the same trained ministrations, that by now flowed like second nature to the woman, she delighted in the chewy texture and bold flavors once more, as she contemplated his next query. Letting her blue eyes trail to the corner of the ceiling in obvious pondering, as her jaws flexed and maimed the delicious treat, before swallowing the tasty mix it had produced. There wasn’t, however, much frame of reference for her, since she’d only lived in the geographical confines of former France, on earth. “Locally, I would say it is; Alsace, Provence, Burgundy … basically the former extents of the French Republic and it’s border areas. It’s been widely regarded as a pretentious delicacy though, outside of its area of origin, as most of traditional French cuisine. Potentially dating back to the ostentatiousness and grandeur of the French monarchy at its heights sometime during the late 17th and early 18th century, which publicised everything French as culturally superior and luxurious. Food, wine, apparel, art styles and architecture …” Once again, Samantha had given a larger explanation for the man to understand the grander picture. Which she hoped he appreciated and didn’t find nuisant or patronizing, as they moved on to Ash'reem food culture..

“An evolutionary adaption, no doubt.” she spoke softly. Albeit not being a biologist, she kind of had a broad reference of different subjects, including the adaptability of life, the groundwork of understanding its differences in development. She chuckled, at his cute display, letting her eyes fall coyly back towards the snack between them, as she took a moment to revel in the warmth of their interaction, a continuous smile straining the full of her cheeks against her lashes. “So … I reckon most food on Ash’kara is consumed raw and potentially alive? If not all?” she looked back up, pondering. “Also, it would suggest that there is little use for seasoning or marinades, as it would all, well, wash away, right?” she shrugged lightly, not wanting to pass the verbal judgment on it sounding a little … bland. Quite literally. “I mean, there is precedence of raw seafood in earth’s culinary history, that also remains unseasoned, for the most part, sometimes even alive.” Yet it felt, as a land-dwelling civilization, they had the added variety of the foods and seasonings that area offered, on top of that of the sea. Then again, she didn’t know how much time traditional Ash’reem actually spent on land.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #13 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

Well, well, well, Sarresh thought to himself as he watched his words take a hold of the woman across from him. He had just taken something of a risk by making it clear that he wanted to see more of her in his life. To be fair, it had been an interesting few days, and they'd share a few moments that some people would never have had the chance to experience. And, it was worth noting his book at least, that she had started it all, by coming to check up on him. It was hardly his fault that such an act of curious concern had made a fairly quick impression. He had scored some sort of points, as it were, and could tell that what he'd said had been taken to heart by the woman across from him - a position he rarely found himself in, to be sure.  Could he really be blamed for taking a moment of pleasure in leaving someone so fully versed in talking, so fully speechless?

Hardly.

Sarresh favored Samantha with a soft, almost awkward smile as she let him know it would not be some great and terrible burden to have to put up with Sarresh and his desire to stay in contact with her. To peruse...well, what, he wasn't sure, exactly. There was a clear connection and for once things weren't based on simple species attraction, or something that had blossomed up out of pheromonal malfeasance. Just...interest. Fascination. And curiosity. Worse things to start whatever this was off on. A friendship. Something else? hell, he wasn't sure himself. The easy answer was simply to see what developed. As a result he didn't pursue his sudden reversal of positions, didn't make light of the moment or anything of the sort, and didn't try to 'score any points' as he might have with some other members of the crew he had interacted with in the past. Not being an asshole was kind of new for Sarresh. All of this is uncharted waters, so don't fuck up. Sound enough advice if he could follow it. After all, he'd had plenty of past experience with the latter, and had little desire to lose something that promised to be a positive influence on him.

Food, as was the case through most of sentient history, seemed to be the glue that bound the conversation together, and at the same time, was the catalyst that moved it own down the social river. The world seemed to right itself as the first course was consumed, and Sarresh saw his own curiosity and perhaps naivety of human cuisine and history allow Samantha to reassert her dominant position in driving the evening forward. He tilted his glass in her direction when she noted Klingons were hardly the ones that she was looking to impress, and even managed the words, "Consider me duly impressed then." He wasn't so blind as to realize he was the focus of those efforts.

Dark brown eyebrows rose up above utterly alien eyes as Sarresh listened with that rapt focus he could bring to something that he deemed worthy of his attention. A small part of his mind imagined that, by this point, Samantha should be used to seeing the look on his face. She managed to draw his attention to just about anything they'd talked about over their previous encounters, and this evening was shaping up along similar lines. The interconnected nature of the dish he was currently eating (he'd popped a third one of the morsels into his mouth and was currently eyeing a fourth, while rolling an empty shell between his finger tips, heedless of the slick nature of the butter that had stained them) surprised him, and caused him to give it a bit more of a consideration. His gaze moved from the snails, to the wine glass that sat next to the small plat where he was discarding his emptied shells, and then back to his dinner companion. . He nodded slowly, and chuckled softly at Samantha's insight in regards to the aforementioned Klingon's.

"I'm sure they would find it fitting. Something about a meal coming full circle. If they could get over it being cooked, of course," he noted with a wry smile. He set the empty shell he'd been toying with down and acted on that impulse for a fourth piece, his fingers deftly working the fork to free the meat from its carapace. He'd adapted to the 'art' of eating the snails with alacrity, though he might not admit his personal pride at the swift accomplishment. Chewing again, he nodded his head along with what Samantha was saying. He took note of how the ever shifting lights coming out of the window, from the slipstream affect around the ship was reminiscent of the lighting under the surface of Aldea's oceans; a comparison that put him into a more relaxed, affable frame of mind, regardless of all that had happened beneath those alien waves. When they had scheduled the dinner, neither had expected to be breaking Starfleet speed records over the appetizer course of the evening.

Yet here they were, with the diplomat giving the time traveler a history of ancient Earth, speeding past systems in a blink of an eye. Quite humbling, when Sarresh gave it a bit of thought. A realization he hid behind a sip of wine from the now considerably less full glass, while letting his eyebrows dart up in response to something he'd been told. Geographically he still had very little frame of reference for the home world of his recently converted species, and that was something he would have to sort out. Or, perhaps he did have an excellent frame of reference, but for the 29th century version of the planet, and thus, the memories and knowledge was locked behind the temporal gates within the recesses of his mind. At present, there was no way for him to be sure.

Sarresh found his lips twitching up into a smile again, as he set the glass down and curled his hands around the stem, leaning over the table and watching her. "We are an amphibious race, Samantha. That means we live both under, and over the water. Mostly under, true, but not exclusively. We cultivate some produce on the surface of the islands that dot the world, and there is a particular dish that involves roasting a bird not unlike your Albatross over the course of three days that is something of a delicacy. Plus an assortment of insectoid dishes garnered only on the surface - though from a snack point, those are mostly consumed raw and yes, alive, as well, like much of the seafood we enjoy." His eyes never left her as he elaborated his response, curious to her reactions. It amused him that she thought his native cuisine would so lacking in certain areas, though she had done a masterful job of dancing around the subject in such a way as to not cause offense.

"You are correct however - most of our day to day meals are consumed raw, and we achieve flavoring by paring the various components. Certain mollusks are quite succulent in their own right, and work well with undersea sponges, where in the individual the flavor profiles enhance each other in combination. The venom that I mentioned earlier, that we are immune to, provides a similar sort of effect as a dish heavily spiced with certain high Scoville peppers, which, if I remember correctly, humans are actually allergic to as a species? Hence the highly sought after 'spicy heat'. A similarity between my ah, new and former species I had not yet appreciated at the time of my transition. Though, in truth I believe I could no longer eat the dish in question. As an Ash'reem I could not handle most of your peppers. As a human, I can, but I seem to have lost the resistance for the venom of the Unglully." The word did not quite flow properly, but he conveyed the name of the mollusk in question easily enough. Sarresh saw confusion on his companions face and shrugged a bit. He would have to elaborate a bit more.

"V-Nine, the medical android loaned to those of us who survived our less than pleasant stay abroad the Versant, did a full work allergen work up for me, based off of the notes of Dr. Nicander and those that worked on the Phoenix program that ah...resurrected me, combined with whatever database's the Savi had granted her access to. She was, apparently, bored after having completed the surgery that restored my ability to breathe under water, and took it upon herself to do the work up while I slept in the recovery ward. She saw it as her duty to insure I took care of myself. Rather touching, I'll admit. I had not expected such from an AI. I should perhaps know better by now, having served aboard this ship for some months now."

Feeling he'd talked a bit much, and not yet seeing the waiter on its way with the next course, Sarresh shrugged his shoulders a bit and asked, "Were you a fan of any of these raw dishes that come from your species history?" A simple enough question he supposed, that might, possibly divert the conversation back to calmer waters. Were he so lucky.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #14 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


As much as her moment of flustered modesty was a token of victory to Sarresh, that he readily indulged in and rightfully so, it was also a pleasurable sentiment of surprise and revelation to the slender blonde, as she appraised the level of comfort and acquaintance, that had grown so effortlessly between them. A destiny, that had been there from the beginning, hinted at with every action and reaction, that so effortlessly fell into place, like the cogs of a perfectly designed machinery. It was not yet entirely foreseeable, what the ultimate designation or purpose of this interpersonal apparatus would be, that established between them. But watching the gears shift into place, revealing more and more of the intricate layout of their relationship, was a delight in its own rite, even without knowing what the endgame was going to be. And in that sentiment, the diplomat felt oddly content playing the receiving end for once, rather than the one probing relentlessly, to further the agenda between them.

But even as that notion had developed, it was destined to reverse polarity, just as the dynamic between them had, from the get-go. Like a maritime mollusk - to touch on the food between them for metaphoric value - that was coaxed out of its shell bit by bit, until it unfolded its full personality, in a flamboyant display. Which was the colorful progression she could see on the man’s demeanor, even as she took a little of that back, which she deemed hers to begin with: The reigns of their conversation. But as a result of the previous shift, his subtle assertion, and the spout of character it brought forth, Sarresh seemed far more content in his role this time around. His words with a mere hint of hesitation, conveying a sentiment of reassurance, not only by the meaning of the words, but the delivery even more so. One that made the blonde smile warmly, in return, a subtle nod tugging at her pate, in acknowledgment of yet another milestone in their interactions.

It was true that the diplomat still had to learn a lot about the Klingon society and their intricacies, at this point. But the culinary aspects of the warrior culture were not one of these things. This kind of trivia was rather common, transcending even into the realm of cliché, as readily known as it was. But what a more political, diplomatic aspect was concerned, she was more than convinced she could get a Klingon to eat something cooked, if only by concocting such an elaborate story, about a meal going full circle by being prepared in its own favorite nutrient. Or maybe another earth delicacy, where the meat of an animal was stuffed with minced versions of related mammals. And that was the crux of her job, wasn’t it, to take a lack of knowledge and inflate it, embellish it with pomp and rigmarole, until it became a commonly accepted reality, that every party felt enticed to pursue. So, if someone wanted to be platitudinous, they could say, diplomacy and dating had a lot in common.

Every time the man leant forward, Samantha could feel her heart rev up a bit, like an engine at the onset of a race. Allured by the spark of confidence, when she steered the conversation to more comfortable subjects, that touched closer to the Ash’reem’s character and preferences. Even when he corrected her, explaining the nature of an amphibious lifeform, she found the sentiment amusing, rather than contentious. Drawing a good sense of delight from the fact that he too eventually circled around to somewhat of a concession towards her original argument. But she had enjoyed the scenic route they had taken non the less. Especially in the almost sassy nature the man had conducted himself so confidently. It was a good look on the man, to be entirely honest, even though it wasn’t very attractive on many of his gender-mates.

“Unglully.” the diplomat repeated, feeling as if her tongue got tied into a knot, which prompted her to conclude the concoction with a delighted laugh. “Alright, you’ll have to draw me a picture, so I know what to keep you away from when we go to Ash’kara.” the blonde concluded her delighted bouts of laughter with a definite nod. Apparently, there were upsides and downsides to the alterations to his body, that had been implemented, out of necessity, she understood. The persistent smile, however, slowly fell victim to a more serious sentiment, as he continued to talk about more of the details of his transition. “I can only imagine what it must feel like, to wake up a different species, for the most part.” she agreed, letting her eyes trail over his pleasing human appearance, that gave little of his heritage away, apart from the graciously kept eye-coloration. The segue to AI’s and their sensitivities, however, was not one she enjoyed to convoy, as it could be an unpopular subject at times. Especially with her personal opinion attached to it.

Biting her bottom lip, as thoughts weighed her pate into a subtle dip, blue eyes fallen to the tabletop, the blond looked up once more, as a more personal question was directed back towards her. Taking a moment to compose a reply, she arched her lips upwards, in a mere moment of contemplation. “I have enjoyed a delicacy called sashimi, during my time at the academy, as San Francisco has a rather prominent Japanese heritage. So, I ventured into one of these ethnic neighborhoods, that still retain that distinct ‘foreign’ charm, with my boyfriend at the time, to try it.” She even made the air-quotes around the word foreign, as Sarresh wouldn’t likely have had any point of reference, to what would’ve qualified as such, in earth’s recent history. "Maybe it’s my partly Vulcan digestive system, but raw food doesn’t really become me well … and he spent the better part of the following night hugging me over waste disposal unit.” the officer chuckled delightfully over the fond memory, despite it not being the prettiest. "Have you ever been to San Francisco? I mean, you did attend the academy?!"

It was just in that moment, then, that the holographic waiter came back, carefully inserting themselves into the conversation, as not to interrupt anything. “I have your main course selection. Chilean seabass with Pacifican seaweed rolls, in western enclave style, for the lady …” the program reiterated, putting the delightfully steamy plate down in front of the Commander. “… as well as a serving of Pad Ki Mao for the gentleman, prawns, squid and scallops ... easy on the spice.” A distinct ring of paraphrasing on the vocal emitters, as their initial order was almost word for word repeated to them. Potentially as not to create any air of misunderstanding. “Allow me to remove the depleted appetizers.” And with that the hologram picked up the empty plate of escargot, the shells and the basket with nothing but breadcrumbs remaining in it. Retreating from the table once more, the two were again left alone to their individually fragrant meals.

“Okay, that DOES look pretty amazing.” Samantha chuckled, raising her eyebrows in a positive appraisal of the dish before her. “Bon appétit!” she prompted, her partly French heritage evident in the foreign sounding ring to her accentuation, as she nodded towards Sarresh’s Thai dish, which she had chosen for him. Still hoping the replicators definition of ‘easy on the spice’ was going to be tolerable for her date. It was, after all, a rather uniquely subjective qualification.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #15 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

Ebb and flow. Give and take. The conversation settled into something of a pattern, and Sarresh would be lying if he did not admit that he found it both soothing and mildly fascinating. He wasn't talkative, yet he was doing quite a lot of talking. Previous social encounters to date had been mostly fueled by an over consumption of alcohol, or had been held behind closed doors, with very little in the way of 'talking' going on. When Amikris and her parents had still been aboard it had been different, of course. He had fellow Ash'reem to converse with, to be around. A shared cultural and biological understanding. All the nuances that bubbled up without being said. A mutual frame of reference that had been a godsend in this primitive times. 

Ever since Theta Eridani IV however...

The less thought of that, the better, even as Sarresh gave some small details as to what had happened to him in the wake of it. Just little notes, small drops, about the process, how it had changed him. The allergen work up that had not been done at the time, but had been complied later. Something about that seemed to sit ill at ease with Samantha. A faint displeasure tickling his sense of her. Perhaps she wished that the people that had worked on him had been more thorough when they'd done things the first time. At least that was how he chose to take it - right or not. It fit with his mental image of her, someone who seemed to care a good deal about him. He, in turn, would naturally be upset if he'd learned that some treatment she'd undergone had not had proper follow up, after all. Which...was a revelation in and of itself that left him momentarily quiet. Yes, this was the start of something downright weird, but he wasn't knocking it.

Sarresh was all smiles - mostly small, occasionally more pronounced, through the course of the dinner conversation. The appetizer was worked over thoroughly as they discussed Ash'reem cuisine. He gave the other woman a small nod of appreciation as she worked her mouth around the alien word for the particular delicacy that might very well prove fatal to both of them, should they take that hypothetical trip to his former homeworld. "Try sticking the tongue against the roof of your mouth on that third syllable. It'll help withe pronunciation. The language is really quite tricky from humans, and it'll be a heck of an oral work out, trying to learn it all. But you did really well there. I'll make sure you've got a picture to go with the word. Can't have either of us getting food poisoning. Makes for a bad vacation." 

Did he sound maybe just a bit hopeful? Well, if so, he wasn't going to admit to it. He would send her a primer on the shellfish however. If nothing else it would give him something to work on in his off hours that wasn't related to time travel.

"I would advise not trying to imagine it. On the whole its rather unpleasant to contemplate, let alone go through. Everyone has questions about who they are and why they are here. Having your entire species changed on you is a rather cruel addendum to it. And I...am not good enough to convey the sheer depths of the discomfort. Not in words. Some of the others that went through the Savi 'correction' process might be able to put it better, I don't know. 

"And in all honesty...I don't imagine that I would wish for you to have that basis of understanding. I think perhaps you are better off for not knowing what it feels like." Realizing that he had, perhaps, said entirely too much on that subject, he averted his gaze. Her comment had been simple compassion and truth. She could not imagine it. Not really. But she had tried to connect. He supposed that was to be appreciated. But he meant what he said - he'd not wish that feeling on anyone. Certainly not someone kind enough to put up with him. 

"Shashimi? I'll have to look into that." was about as far as Sarresh got into that response before the hologram arrived to deliver unto the both of them the chosen meals each had ordered for the other. While his alien eyes tracked the initial placement of the Chilean bass, delight that it was, he allowed himself to refocus on the meal selected for him, in turn. He paid the little hologram no mind as it removed the plates related to the opening dish of buttered snail, and instead tilted his head this way and that as he observed the meal placed before him. Leaning down, he sniffed a few times, drawing the scent in, then pulling back and swiftly covering a sneeze. Some sort of spice sent his nose to twitching in a visible fashion as he processed it, making a series of small, funny faces. 

"Er, bon appetite," he repeated her toast, poorly, the words unfamiliar to him as he tried his best to mimic her tones. Results were mixed, but there was nothing for it. He looked at the little sticks provided, frowned and moved to take them into hand. The frown deepened as he realized he knew exactly how to use them and began to pick bits and pieces of seafood out of the bed of noodles they were arranged upon. He popped one of the scallops into his mouth and hissed slightly, hastily swallowing and scooping the water up. "That was hotter than I expected. I should remember to blow on the dish, yes?" He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. "Nothing burnt at least."

Proceeding a bit more carefully, he picked at the dish, sampling and nodding in approval. It had a 'kick' to it as humans would put it but he did not seem to immediately mind. "This is quite tasty. Thank you for suggesting it, Samantha." He rolled her name around his tongue for a moment like he might have one of the scallops in his dish, before returning to her earlier question. He pointed at her with his chopsticks - that was the word - and said, "I believe that I might have, at some point, been to San Francisco. But as I cannot remember it, beyond a certain memory of salt air, I can only assume that it was not the San Francisco of the twenty fourth century. I have no recollection of having ever really visited  Earth. I remember Memory Alpha. Serving there as a part of a cultural exchange program, representing my world. I do not remember enlisting at your Starfleet Academy. I do not remember any sort of training, although I posses the skills and aptitude that would come from such activities. Muscle memory, as it were."

More recent memories danced in the back of his mind. It wasn't just Starfleet protocol that he knew without knowing how he learned it. Skills that seemed at odds with the concept of a simple scientist lay just beneath the surface. Skills he'd put to use during the Harbinger uprising. Bodies that had been consigned to the stars bore mute testimony to the skills that Sarresh knew without knowing. He did not mention them to Samantha however. What point was there in ruining a perfectly good meal by noting he had the dexterity and knowledge to do great harm with a laser scalpel? 

"This rank is as much a fiction as anything I suppose. I do not remember what position or rank I held in the Starfleet of the 29th century. This simply one that fits the position I have been required to fill here while I try and make sure those from uptime do not further hinder events in the present. So in short, I have no idea when I visited San Francisco. But it sounds like a place I would like. I'm sorry the...sashimi?" He questioned his own pronunciation of it, still working on nailing the word down, "did not agree with your digestive system. Kind of your date to care for you through the aftermath."

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #16 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


Noting that the corners of Sarresh’s lips seemed permanently magnetized to his cheeks, handsome dimples perpetually denting his skin, the diplomat basked in the sentiment like the midday sun on a tropical beach. The comfortable breeze of his baritone voice, brushing past her warm skin, falling onto the umbrella of her eardrums, like gentle summer rain. Letting the tip of her tongue, break the confines of her rosy lips, like splitting a succulent peach, the blonde wetted her soft pillows ever so slightly, idly, as she watched the man intently, relating the lingual intricacies of his language at the behest of one word. Sticking her own tongue to the roof of her mouth, feeling the slight imperfections of the bone , underneath the slick skin, she let the dexterous muscle flick forth a couple of times, reverberating a plopping sound, as if to gauge the elasticity of it. “Unglully.” she replied, letting the vowels jumble further back in her throat than before. But it still didn’t quite hit the connotation provided. “Unglully.” This time, she kept the tip of her tongue attached to the top of her mouth only after it had attached there for the double ‘l’s anyways, thus muffling the ‘y’ slightly, which came much closer to the man’s specification. Actually, it almost sounded the same.

„Well, I had some vocal training at the academy, to more easily adapt to other languages on short notice.” Samantha related, as an explanation as to why, maybe, she had picked up on the intricacies a little easier, despite not being able to touch her elbow with her tongue. “It was a lot of aaaeeeeiiiiiiooooouuuuu.” she voiced, working her plump lips in exaggerated forms and shapes, which ultimately made her too laugh heartily. It was still as silly as it had been, back at the academy. Though it felt infinitely sillier, now that she was doing it all by herself, in a public place, opposite a dinner date. But the diplomat was nothing, if not confident, so the embarrassment merely rolled off her slim features, like beads of warm downpour. A sentiment that soon turned into a subtle nodding of her pate, at the mention of deterring potential food poisoning that could ruin a vacation that, albeit hypothetical to her counterpart, was a distant certainty for the plucky blonde. She didn’t make hypothetical plans, as much as she didn’t deal in possibilities and chances. It was certainty or nothing, all the way. And if that much reassurance wasn’t readily available, she’d create it within the sentiment of hope. A crutch, admittedly, simply to avoid having to deal with uncertainty head on.

Letting the man say, whatever he had to say, offering a diligent receptacle, for every word and every line of subtext, the blonde nodded understandingly, brushing her lips together with the subtle sense of compassion she wished to relate in the sentiment without overtly diving into the deep, dark emotions this side-quest could unearth. The sentiment posed, by her, had been one of mere consideration, not of probing, so she figured it was something he wanted to say. Something Sarresh had intended to get off his soul, to an extent, to someone, for a long time. As it sometimes helped, to alleviate the weight, that could quench every dream of a bright future. And in the spirit of coaxing out the mollusk of his emotional awakening, Sam was there for every minute of it. Feeling like she was privy to the discovery of an entirely new universe, with its own different laws of physics and time. Venturing into areas unknown, that seemed to be the man’s inner most desires and fears, that had been hidden away from this reality far too long to be healthy.

But the awakening came in small bursts, involuntary and maybe accidental, like the palpitations of a star that had trouble reaching critical mass. Which was the natural order of things. If you helped a little bird, hatching through the tough shell of its egg too much, it would be too weak to survive. And if you didn’t help, it could be, that it didn’t even make it out alive. “Next time.” she appraised with a gentle smile as he conceded to try sashimi some time. It had slowly become a sort of lifeline, which they both pulled themselves along, the prospect of a next time, wasn’t it. And while the trip to Ash’kara seemed a little further away, the concept of a holo-visit to San Francisco’s Chinatown was a more palpable one. Chuckling slightly at his own attempts to mirror her language, white teeth flashed from rosy confines. “Almost. You have to stretch the … you know, never mind.” the blonde ultimately laughed, not intent on adding yet another lesson to their date. Because who knew, if everything went well, they might’ve needed their labial dexterity still.

Picking up fork and knife delicately, finer motor-skills honed with the experience of countless state dinners, Samantha cut the first piece off the seabass. Though, pulling it off was more precise, seeing as the oceanic meat was both tender and juicy. Looking up once more at the sound, blue eyes marked with surprise and subsequently amusement, the blonde noted the man’s predicament with glee. Watching Sarresh reach for the water to alleviate the pain, the woman waited for a moment before taking an uninterrupted first bite. “Guess that’s one of the advantages of living in the ocean …” she nodded at the glass as he sat it back down. “… easy access to burn remedy.” Chuckling gently, the blond ultimately brough the small portion of white meat to her lips, sprinkled with finely chopped herbs and the glimmer of delicate butter. Letting a gentle breeze flow through a thin line, in between her magnificent pillows, the officer ultimately propped the delight forth into the dark, chewing on it with slow deliberation. The supple taste of garlic and estragon, dissolving in the gentle warmth of the molten butter, against the edgy texture of the fish, that gave way easily to further comminution. It all worked like a symphony of flavors against her palette.

“I love this.” she mumbled, before even swallowing, forgetting her entire training. Nodding with appreciation, while already parting off another, slightly larger, piece of the fish. “You’re welcome as well.” she chuckled, appraising the man for a moment with her azure ponds, as he too delighted in the switched dish orders. Taking a moment in trying to gauge whether he was just sparing her feelings or truly engaged in the culinary switcheroo. “Right … right.” the office replied, nodding with a motion that reverberated throughout her entire torso, as jaw muscles stiffened around another bite. There was probably nothing the man hadn’t done or seen in his life, only that he could not remember it. Which was sort of poetic in its own right. Catching her attention towards the end of his narrations however, the blonde gave him an acknowledging expression. The idea of a holo-date in the romantic streets of San Francisco more and more forming as a certainty in her mind as she so did. “I am pretty sure you would hold my hair too, if this fish turned out to be altogether not suitable for my digestive system.” she smiled, with no doubt on her mind, that he would, even though the statement was posed as a humorous quip.

“So …” Samantha placed her fork down for a moment, after half the fish had gone the way of the dodo, relaxing back into her seat. “… do you remember any … significant other, from your past, or your future?” she asked, touching back on their recent subject. It was an intriguing concept to contemplate, given his almost monastic self-isolation. Granted, he probably hadn’t been like that all of his life.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #17 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

Making Samantha laugh was a somewhat recent discovery for Sarresh, who had some small practice at it across their prior encounters. To date, he found it an enjoyable activity, and he joined her in turn as she worked through the vowel sounds of Federation Standard. So she was a trained linguist, after a fashion. Given that she was a Diplomat by profession, having some knowledge of alien linguistics made a certain amount of sense to the once and future alien. Nice to know that Starfleet was not completely incompetent when it came to the process of turning out refined officers capable of fulfilling the duties of their chosen fields of expertise. Far from it in fact, were he to be honest. It was not a statement of charity to say that on the whole, even the lowest performing Starfleet officer was still one of the best examples of their species and training around. And Samantha, in so far as his biased opinion could discern, was far from a poor example of a Starfleet Officer. 

Cradling that notion in the back of his mind, Sarresh, he did not quite realize that she might already be plotting out future meetings. What was hypothetical to him was simply far off for her. It would happen eventually because she had decided this would be so when she purposed the visit. He'd taken it as a possibility, perhaps because that was he worked with a world and realm of possible futures. Plucking the strings of reality that would insure such events unfolded as they should, subjective as that notion was, happened to be part and parcel of his daily existence. Differing views on the nature of things did make for interesting dinner conversation, if not out of right companionship.

They shared another warm chuckle over his struggle to speak French, and her half attempted correction of his pronunciation. It was easy to laugh with her in a way that was new and strange for Sarresh. The urge to retreat from it out of fear of being burned down the line was a strong one, that took a not inconsiderable effort to properly quash. But quash he did, helped along with the liquid courage offered by the wine, and the sheer comfort of a shared meal. Again, he reflected on the anthropological groundswell of xenocultural examples of the importance of such an experience, of sharing food and fire as it were, among individuals, or whole groups. It was an almost universal notion, and one that he took solace in.

Running his tongue over the roof of his mouth, Sarresh tested the flesh there to make sure he had not burnt himself. Satisfied, he took a sip of the wine again, swirling it around and swallowed. "True. Being able to breathe in the cure for a burnt palate is something of a benefit, under the sea. A wetter life as it were." he chuckled softly and shrugged his shoulders. Those alien orbs focused on Samantha however, rather than his own oral predicament, as she dug into the dish he'd selected for her. Anticipation bubbled up, as he watched the fork move to her mouth, and observed her lips closing over the morsel of bass. The meal suddenly felt as if it were balanced on the edge of a knife, and Sarresh found himself holding his breath, only to let it out in a gentle sigh as her words. "Excellent," was his simple, but elated response. A weight eased away from his shoulders as he realized she too enjoyed the fare he had suggested for her. 

Wrinkling his nose at the notion that the dinner might disagree with her, Sarresh nonetheless nodded his head.

"Hopefully it won't come to that, but yes, it would be the least that I could do, as I would have been responsible for the offensive meal in question." Only after he spoke, in tones that made it clear to do anything less simply would not do, did he realize there was, perhaps, other implications. Were in the place of the previous date implied being on a 'date' with the diplomat which was...well, a promising notion. Not that he should count on such a thing. Despite the connection he seemed to share with Samantha, that link that tugged at the back of his mind, he did not conceptualize the idea that had been bouncing around in her brain, the notion of a trip to San Francisco, facilitated by the ships holodeck. A true shame as he would have lept at the idea with an alacrity that would have shocked him in the wake of it. 

He should have drawn further inferences along those lines with her next words, and his chopstick s pause half way to his mouth, the noodles slipping from his grasp at her question. In truth, from the outside it was a comical reaction, but for a brief moment, it was not Samantha that he saw before him. Two other faces warred with reality, and he had to blink them away as he folded back in upon himself. It was small things, little micro-reactions. A slight slackness in the jaw. A distance in his gaze, before it snapped back with a sharp focus. A twitch of his fingers, and the slumping of shoulders. Taking a steady breath, Sarresh shook his head slightly. 

"Not in the way you mean, no," he answered, cryptic as ever. He set the sticks down atop the noodles that had fallen out of them, and sipped at the wine instead, cradling the glass in his palms and peering into its clear depths, as if discerning all that had been and all that would be in the swirling golden liquid. When he looked back up at her, there was a sense of loss that was as undeniable as it was unquantifiable. "If I left someone from my past, waiting for me, I do not remember her. Them, I suppose I should say, though I would imagine, given my current preferences, that any theoretical significant other from before my time aboard the Theurgy would identify as 'her'. Had even that certainty of preference and attraction been meddled with by whatever had been done to encrypt his memories of the future? There was no sure way to know, though Sam had purposed a possible solution during their first encounter. 

"I cannot say if I left someone behind when I supposedly volunteered for this mission. I'm not sure that I have that depth of character, having gone through everything thus far from the day I set foot aboard ship. On a similar note, I do not know what my own future now holds. Perhaps, before I came aboard, I reviewed the records of this ship, and understood what could happen to me, and whom I...might be attracted to. Perhaps there was some future history written into stone that gave me solace and comfort enough to take the mission at hand. I...don't know." He shrugged and laughed, though this was not the warm laugh from before. Continuing on, he took the chopsticks back in hand, setting the glass aside.

"Since my arrival aboard, there have been two individuals that I grew close to. One of my own former species. It was my failed effort to save her life that lead to the catastrophic damage requiring my...re-sequencing as a human to persevere what little was left of me." Bitter, much? "After that rebirth, I and another officer were...hell, there's no easy way to put it, we were doused by Deltan pheromones of all things. It sounds ridiculous when said aloud, doesn't it?" He had the grace to sound sheepish. "It was during the mutiny led by officers of the Harbinger. A half Deltan nurse was...abused. Something involving a medication she took? I still do not know the details after all this time. We got caught in the backlash. You couldn't script something more gut wrenching, I suppose. The nurse, bless her, eventually died aboard the Versant. That hurt. She was a supremely kind person, and did not deserve what happened to her.

"The woman that got caught in the backlash with me remained close after it all. Shared trauma, or something like that. She died during the Borg assault, while I was still trapped on the Savi ship with all the other half breeds and genetic misfits. I have since learned that she was in the process of being assimilated, and in truth, death is far kinder a fate, than the thought of her out there, suffering as part of the Collective" He wasn't entirely sure if he'd just ruined the whole evening by telling her all of this, but he had mentioned it before, in passing, and he figure he should point that out. "As I mentioned when we first met, I've had a nasty track record since I came back to the 24th century, Samantha. People that I grew close to...well. Its all part of why your simply showing up on the bottom of a pool to see if I was all right was such a startling thing. I meant it when I said I was not used to this timeline being kind to me." With more ease than he felt, he twirled some of the noodles around the chopsticks, and plopped it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing to give himself a moment to become more collected. 

"Draw what conclusions you wish, but I haven't honestly been comfortable talking about that with anyone." Left unsaid, but easily discerned, was the words, and notion, 'until you.'

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #18 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


There was so much that Samantha didn’t know about Sarresh, a sentiment only compounded by the man’s own inability to recall every last shred and detail of his existence so far. The diplomat recalled a human poet, saying hat with no past a man had no future, which was a harrowing fate to contemplate. Even more so for someone whom she had so close and concerned with, as the former Ash’reem before her. Hence a sense of sympathy and care, had sparked forth almost immediately after recognizing his somewhat lost soul, beneath the surface of deep pool of self-imposed isolation. A sentiment partly sparked from the idea of protecting others, but to a not so small part, she felt like, also to protect himself. It was something she had grown incredibly accustomed to in her dealings as a diplomat, though certainly on a more selfish notion that what the man before her was concerned. It was a notion she knew and understood, but not really indulged in herself. She was an open book to anyone, only withholding certain aspects with the intent of manipulating a situation in a way beneficial to her or the cause. But what her character and demeanor was concerned, she had learned that being open, confident and forthcoming put others at ease. Within the sometimes-fake sense of security, that sparked from an illusion to gain the upper hand through that knowledge. When it really held not much leverage at all, she had made sure of that. Blunting those knifes before she handed them out. So yeah, in a way, maybe, you could say she employed some sense of defense herself.

But given all of that, the blonde was more than elated – and potentially a little surprised – that the almost instantly, and without much further contemplation, decided to openly address her query. If only after a short moment of deploying a little smoke screen of uncertainty, however. Continuing to preside over her meal, as to not put any additional pressure or expectation on the man, she was swiftly greeted with an expression that could only be described as chilly. Obviously, she had touched upon a subject that wasn’t as pleasant to brush past as the culinary aspects of the evening had been. This was the second time, upon touch on his former heritage and home. And while she felt like that had gone down well enough to qualify as a sentiment that brought them closer, the commander still felt the same temporary ping of remorse, from steering them down this road. The diplomat was skilled, of course, in guiding a conversation towards a certain direction, even covertly so, but while there had been this intent, on a personal level, she felt bad for pulling on that thread, even if the eventually payoff would be worth it for the both of them, she was sure.

Her pretty pate falling serious, glazed over by the warm mist of sympathy and consideration, Samantha found the man touching upon a lot of sentiments that also resonated within her, if only by a proxy capacity. The notion of feeling a connection to some that, sometimes, you couldn’t even tell had been real or just a figment of your imagination, trying to gloss over the vast emptiness of space. And he proposed an interesting dilemma: The idea of him having been a completely different person. It was after all, the memories and experiences of the past that surely shaped a character. All those little tidbits and influences of your childhood, manifesting in quirks and character traits that you weren’t able to ever shake under normal circumstances, throughout your entire life. Maybe that was what the poet was touching upon. Once you stripped away all the experiences a person had, that shaped them into whom they were, you basically erased them from existence, short of ending their physical manifestation in this reality. Leaving an empty shell, or a clean slate, whichever way you chose to look at it. But at any rate, it was an epic tragedy, rivaling the best of works, the blonde had ever read herself.

So, IN an effort to not exude an added sense of weight upon the man, as her heart sank a bit, the diplomat tried to focus on the more uplifting aspect, the potential of being able to become whichever person he wanted to be now. And maybe, just a little bit, the romanticized notion of a person’s essence persisting even after you basically hit the reset button on their brain chemistry. That could couldn’t recondition, polarize or reset, a person’s soul and essence. That Sarresh Morali had always been a kind and considerate, coy and inadvertently funny, individual. And with that thought in mind, it was incredibly hard to feel sorry for him, which was a good thing. But it was also incredibly hard to imagine that there had not been someone left behind longing, wallowing, as he decided to follow the selfless pursuit in the call of duty. It was however not a sentiment she openly conveyed. Though he subtle smile on her face, and whatever understanding of each other’s thought and emotions they still harbored after their connection in the hottub, did extend such an olive branch of reassurance. Even if not verbally and outright obviously so.

Letting her fork sink to the edge of her plate, Samantha reached for her glass, watching the man’s continued narrations with focused intent, as she took a deliberate sip. Then she had to chuckle, and almost lightly choked on the sip, slight acidic regurgitation burning in the back of her throat. Placing her glass down with a stifled cough she nodded her head knowingly. “I think a lot of what I gleamed from Theurgy’s turbulent history could be filed under ‘sounding ridiculous’.” the blonde added light-heartedly, intent on giving the certainly valid past an air of incredulity, that it certainly needed. However, it was a levity short lived. As the subject transitioned into a more relatable area, one that she herself had been participant in. Brushing her plump lips together, as her elated pate fell serious once more, the memory wasn’t as dire as the lack thereof, for sure. She’d prefer to remember all the pain and torment in her life, even tenfold, as opposed to forgetting all the good parts too.

Constricting her plush pillows in a flat smile, tucking the corners of her mouth in a strictly horizontal capacity, without the distinctive raising or lowering to indicate a bias towards a sentiment, the officer nodded slowly. Letting the heartfelt, seemingly subconscious compliment sink in, that maybe only existed as an ethereal judgment between them. One definite nod, justifying his last words, it felt like they had reached the end of that particular chapter, tucking at the corner of the next page to move on. But she had to keep him from moving on, for the moment, before that moment would become memory too. “For what it’s worth, I think you made a pretty good case for yourself right there … one that I can only mirror in every sentiment you have given me since we met. It’s not a very stable environment, we live in, conducive to any kind of prospect that is certain to last. But I think you’ve proven to yourself that you don’t wish to live in the potential timelines that are spread out at your fingertips, but rather the one you’re living right now. And I like to believe that’s how you’ve always been.”

Reaching her hand out to place it upon the man’s, across the table, the blonde may only have been subconsciously aware of what events that would trigger, given their history. But the intent to convey what she was feeling in this moment, the positiveness for him being okay, that opening up was a good thing, not only to her but others like her, was potentially a catalyst to what her body decided to do. Delicate fingers tracing across the skin of his forearm, electricity crackling against the faint hairs, before her palm came to rest flush against his limb, warm and comfortable. Within an instant she knew that he could feel it too, the positive outlook of a future, that shone brightly in light of the dark past. The sorrow and loss within the diplomat’s past herself, which at times had remained deliberately forgotten, as opposed to a sentiment imposed upon her. But also, the glorious glimmer of hope, transcending alongside the words ‘Hope is the last light that will go out in the galaxy’ – which held incredible significance to the blonde’s positive towards any kind of future, as long as there was one. Somethings he intently shared with him, as open as she could be, in this nonverbal connection, that no seemed like a natural extension of being, rather than the startling sensation it had, the first time.

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #19 –
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03|  USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust 
[Show/Hide]

Opening himself up, putting himself out there, in a vulnerable position, was a scary prospect for Sarresh Morali. More often than naught, it bit him firmly in his (admittedly toned) ass. And yet, over a delightful seafood meal, shared with a relatively new acquaintance, well on her way to being a friend, or something more, he couldn't be sure yet, he did just that. He made himself vulnerable in a way that was quite uncomfortable and against his nature, but which he felt necessary if things were to go much farther beyond where they were. He couldn't just brush the question off and ignore it, or try to divert the conversation elsewhere. For one, he lacked the social skill to make it seem like anything other than a hard brush off. For another, if he were going to trust Samantha, and he did feel like he could, then by the same token he actually had to show that trust. And answer the question she had put forth. She must have had some interest in the subject on a personal level, as it did not strike him as the kind of thing one spoke of in idly chatter.

Not that he had great, sweeping swaths of experience there, of course.

Perhaps then, it was good that Sarresh could not simply read Samantha's thoughts across the dinner table. He might categorically disagree with her opinion of him. He would be touched, beyond words, by how she viewed him, and while it might have done some good for the man, by the same token, seeing himself through her eyes, and trying to reconcile that against his own less than stellar opinion of the man he'd been here since he had arrived and the specter of whom he might have been prior was...it would have been such a gross disconnect that he would not have known how to measure the two. What then is the measure of a man? He idly thought, having finished his say, and watching Sam's reaction, listening as she began to speak in turn.

Just as he had sensed a form of reassurance almost radiating off her, so to did her words seek to convey that meaning. His head tilted to one side again, and his eyebrows climbed up along his forehead, searching for that high hair line to hide in. She'd focused in on his attempts to live in the moment and that was...well. to live in the present. In the timeline he'd been given. (Stuck in, really). Instead of trying to sort out everything across multiple time lines and pick and choose and...well, it was a lot to take in. He appreciated her views on it even if he didn't quite agree. And...she was making an effort. Making the best of the situation he found himself in. He'd tried, multiple times, and watched it fall apart around him in sorrow. And then he could counter that with the events on the Savi ship. It was a horrible nightmare filled hellscape...that resulted in stopping a Borg invasion and preventing the loss of 63 billion lives, not to mention keeping the parasitic infestation from finding its way into the Borg Collective. For that would truly have doomed all of reality.

He opened his mouth to say something, to try and put anything he was thinking into words for her, as touched as he was by her own, when he felt a warmth crawl up his arm from his hand. His mouth clicked shut, audibly and those oceanic eyes dropped down to see the point of contact. As if to see were enough, the connection, the presence of her in his mind sparked to life. The bridge was formed again, as it had been in the tub. As it had been under the waters of Aldea. Awareness, familiarity, a warmth that he was slowly starting to crave, as strange and alien as it all was.

Reassurance was what he felt first and foremost. A sense of validation of his actions, of his words, of telling her how he had fared. He could not hide the reaction to that, the gratitude, the worry, the interest, all of it was there, a swirling sea of emotions that Sarresh did not particularly want to try and categorize in his own mind was opened up and on display for her, should she choose to even just lightly browse. The sharp pain of loss, the wariness of someone hurt time and again to push forward, and yes, that last light in the darkness, hope.

What shocked him, truly, was how much of that was mirrored in her own mind. Her own loss, deep, cold and knotted in the core of whom she was. Her own hope. Her genuine desire to connect with him in a variety of possible manners. That burning bright hope for a better future,  not just for herself on a personal level, but for everyone in her life. For him.

For a moment Sarresh seemed to sway in his chair, as if he was bobbing up and down in the ocean. He looked at her, and knew she would see herself as he saw her, and was almost embarrassed by the fact. The sheer high regard he'd come to hold her in, the need for her to understand. The almost childish hope that maybe this time someone who tried to reach out to him wouldn't get hurt by the effort. He found himself turning his hand around on the table, palm up, and folding it around hers, squeezing tightly for a moment. That very real, very human form of contact.

It was a mistake.

As he tried to open himself up to her, he exposed a part of himself that he should have kept under chain. That little box, in the back of his mind, at just the wrong time. Outside of their happy little dinner, with their quiet little conversation, their cultural palette exchange, other machinations were afoot. A great undertaking was being brought to bear at just that moment, and everything that had been programmed into Sarresh, centuries from now, by people separated from this moment by the gulf of time itself, clicked into place right as he invited Samantha into his mind. A key fit into place, a pulse of energy rippled out a cross the time stream. A pressure built in the back of his mind, in that dark cavern that was chained away, out of his conscious thought. It cracked open as it was designed to do, flooding him with immediate knowledge of the threat at hand, of a breach, in progress. Someone, something was trying to come through, back in time, to force their way into this reality, into this moment, abroad this ship. The programming shoved knowledge into his brain, opened the floodgates a crack ...

But the barriers of Sarresh's mind was already open in another direction, and it created a mental suction. Pressure on this side was out of balance with that on the other side of the MEM coding. What should have been a tiny crack, there and gone, was wedged open, stuck. A trickle became a torrent and Sarresh rocked back in his chair, as if hit across the face by a physical blow, breaking the contact instantly with Samantha, though not before she would get some of that backlash. A vision of an impossible ship that could not exist, a momentary understanding of time itself, and a glimpse of the man Sarresh had been before he'd come here. That man, starring right back at her and nodding before it snapped away with the contact of his hand.

But the breach in Sarresh's memory remained open wide, and it came pouring in, a pure, unchecked torrent of future knowledge and ancient history. Of things past, present, and those that had not yet come to be. More than just what was needed in the moment, more than that warning that a breach was happening. That an assault on the course of time was underway. In that moment he knew loss. He knew hope. He knew joy. And suffering. And pain. The unending silence of what might come to pass. The shift in reality around him. How he'd lost a game he did not know he was playing. How he won a battle he'd been fighting since the day he arrived. He understood the nature of...everyone around him. Of their possible fates. There was so much.

Too much.

He hadn't realized that he'd slumped back in his chair, and that he was whispering, as he had months ago, "It's happening again. Times forking. Its all changed. Sam..." And then he was up on his feet, staggering away, the words "forgive me, forgive me," spilling out of his lips, over and over as the madness descended and he fled the room.
 

Re: CH02: S [D01|1922] The Calm before the Storm

Reply #20 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]


When Samantha was a young girl, living in a field post of the Federation Peace Corp on the planet Lyshan, where Bajoran refugees were huddled together until decisions in the Federation Council were made what to do with them, the inquisitive girl would often venture outside of the compound, into the shanty town that was erected around it’s walls and fences, like tidal waves washing around cliffs. Diving into an entire society, that was coloring the seas of corrugated iron and tinted wood with music and laughter, filling the muddy paths and little plazas, like a rainbow spray. As a kid, it was an adventure, an archeologist out to unearth the traditions and tokens of an ancient civilization, always bringing home nig nag with more or less cultural value. She could remember asking her parents, why the Bajorans were coming there, to the valley outside their fortress, of which her father had declared her to be the princess of. And her mother had told her, that there had to be a decision made, on a faraway world, by a group of old and wise people. So, they could let these people move on, to a better place.

But as a child, your perceptions were limited and a lot of things that didn’t make sense, or seemed undesirable, were glossed over with fairytales and pretense. There were areas that the little girl was not allowed to go, where the sick and violent were segregated to - the dark valley of the mountain elves. Or whenever a case of the Panorian Flu broke out and entire areas of the camp were burnt down by Bajoran believers, to appease the prophets – the celestial glow of someone moving on to a better place, reflected across the low hanging clouds. And thus were groomed these barricades and secret compartments in the child’s mind, where unpleasant thoughts and repressed emotions went, abstracted into fairytales and delusions. Even now, a quarter of a century later, not much of that had changed. Sure, the blonde may have grown more astutely aware of these sentiments, as her logic and common senses were honed. But that hadn’t alleviated the comfortable notion, of being able to fall back on these concepts, whenever a situation warranted it. Hell, it had even become second nature.

So, she could understand, that when she touched Sarresh, that there was a similar sentiment at play. Certain areas, thoughts, emotions, hidden away from her, to protect her. It made her feel like a child again, in the most beautiful ways possible. A sentiment only surpassed by the gleaming light, breaking through, at the notion of a bigger portion of the man’s self being revealed to her. As she stepped into the inner sanctum of his being, a small scared cave, down a long series of corridors and shafts, simple in its obvious structure, but lined with intent and meaning like baroque plaster and gold-leaf décor. In the midst of it, a small trove, a little chest, vibrating and skipping with anticipation, like a little puppy, vying to be petted. But just as she reached out her hand, to open it, a shockwave reverberated through the caverns and tunnels. The golden hue, illuminating the auburn walls, flickering, like torches in the wind. A loud rumble, rushing through like thunder. And then, darkness, the light snuffed out. Darkness and quiet … but soon from the nothing, broke an array of impressions and feelings, like a firework of images, rushing by, sparking from one point in his mind, where all the futures of the universe were hidden away.

Standing amid the chaos of timestreams, picking up voices and sounds that seemed familiar, a picture of her late husband, Brody, passing her by in warp speed, along with it, the warmth and comfort, she’d associated with him, passing and fleeting, like his handsome pate. The voice of her grandfather, the Dominion fleet entering through the wormhole, an image of her crying in her cold and lonely quarters on Starbase 133 … among countless indistinguishable mementos and future projections, she could not possibly fathom. For a moment, she was pulled into the rubble of a dark planet, staggering down a hillside behind Sarresh, a city built of glimmering obsidian, at their feet, ethereal purple beings hovering above. Then she was pulled back into the current, along with countless more sensations. Finally, a loud sound, like condensed air erupting from her ear-canals violently, and with it, a sudden skip back into reality, that was so vivid, the diplomat felt as if she’d been dropped into her chair. He had pulled his arm from her gentle touch, fingertips tingling, as if they had fallen asleep and were just now supplied back with blood. Compared to the flow of events before, now everything was moving as if in molasses. At least her reactions were.

Before Samantha could say or do anything, Sarresh had jumped from his seat, white as a sheet, and had staggered off. She herself, trying to pry from the confines of her chair, wavered ever so slightly, as the deck-plating turned into rubber. By the time she’d come back to her senses, holding on to a nearby column for a moment, he was gone. Wetting the dry roof of her mouth, clearing her throat, the commander erected herself more gracefully. “Computer … locate Lieutenant …” Another shock hit, making the ship tremble, all too reminiscent of what she’d just been through in Sarresh’s mind. Which painted the diplomat initially convinced it was just another aftershock. But the floor still trembled with the shake of her tense muscles and the walls still grumbled with the insatiable appetite of the afterlife. The deck had rattled in vibration, like the corpus of a guitar, sending silverware and glasses strumming across the tables, jiggling like wind chimes all around; she realized this was real. Then, the red alert came on and all senior officers were ordered to check in with their departments, by the time her mind had already jumped into logic mode, as she rushed out the doors.

“Computer, locate all members of the diplomatic department.”

FIN
 
Simple Audio Video Embedder