From Star Trek: Theurgy Wiki
|Name:||Seren son of Selv|
(equivalent to early twenty in human perspective)
|Birthplace:||T'Karath Sanctuary, ShiKahr District, Vulcan|
|Height:||5ft 9in / 1.75m|
|Weight:||143lbs / 65kg|
|Hair:||Black, short, almost full shaved|
|Eye color:||Dark brown|
|Played by:||Jacob Anderson (Raleigh Ritchie)|
|Writer:||NPC due for stasis|
|Puzzles and brainteasers|
Literature (biographies & detective novels)
|T'Karath Sanctuary, ShiKahr |
ShiKahr's Learning center
Vulcan learning center, Vulcan Embassy on Earth
2372-2376: Starfleet Academy
2376-2379: Starfleet Counselling School
|2379-2380: Cadet Cruise, USS Theurgy|
2380-2381: Ensign, USS Theurgy
Seren was a young Vulcan Counselor who served aboard USS Theurgy since his cadet cruise. He was injured during a skirmish in the first week of 2381, requiring an emergency cardiac implant. Due to the complexity of the surgery he required, he has remained freeze since that point. Seren aided in the opposition against the parasites that compromised Starfleet Command in the end of the 24th century.
Unfortunately, he was fatally injured in April of 2381, and put into stasis.
The woman who had changed her name to T'Ra watched as the sun rose over the Vulcan Forge. She placed her hands behind her back, fingers firmly intertwined. One of her thumbs shook slightly as she did so. Finally, she closed her eyes and, for a long time, the very slight movement of her chest was that which separated her from the immobility of a statue.
When the sun's rays reached her feet and the morning heat began to rise, the acolyte approached where she meditated and waited patiently for her to notice his presence. T'Ra didn't open her eyes for a long time. When the sun had risen five degrees in the sky, the acolyte stepped forward and spoke at last.
"Aspirant, the high priest needs an answer."
T'Ra opened her eyes at last. The circumstance in which she was involved was, to say the least, unusual. A decision precipitated by circumstances. A sacrifice for the common good. It was a new life, a life that took her away from the path she had traced for herself so many years ago.
"Humans have a word to define a discovery or an unexpected event, when one seeks or aspires to something else. An unexpected and sometimes fortunate event. They call that 'Serendipity'".
The acolyte remained silent, waiting for the woman to make the connection between that concept and the response he required.
"Seren. The child will be called Seren," she finally said. "He will remain in the Temple with me."
Seren needed to move. He had been in the same position for too long. The bell he was holding tinkled slightly. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible sound. In other circumstances, no one would have noticed, but in the solemnity of the ceremony it was a discordant note that echoed in the Temple domes like the chime of a gong. The boy pressed his small fingers over the instrument, but the harm was already done. One of the attendants raised his gaze away from the high priest and looked at him. Seren lowered his eyes and, despite all his efforts, noticed how the blush rose to his cheeks, dyeing them green.
The faint rustle on his left told him that his mistake hadn't gone unnoticed. Seren looked at his mother. T'Ra had not shifted her stance, and her expression remained unperturbed and solemn, her eyes fixed on the ritual unfolding before them. However, there was a slight tension in her jaw, a small wrinkle in the corner of her lips that reflected the deep disappointment she felt. Seren hadn't succeeded. Another time.
Any child of his age, in those circumstances, would have been carried away by weeping. Seren did not. He simply regained his initial posture and studied the possible outcomes of the conversation he would have with T'Ra once the ritual was over. None of the answers he was capable of conceiving would placate her. Emphasising his youth, an age when most Vulcan children were still allowed to show emotion would only make the situation worse. Frustration began to grow inside him, but he killed it as soon as it appeared. Or rather he balled it into a small, dense sphere and hid it in that secret place where he could ignore it. He wouldn't disappoint his mother again. At least not on the same day.
When Selv entered the side chamber of the Temple, he soon found them. He had hoped to find her alone. The summons she had sent him had been strange, but no Vulcan would refuse to attend if summoned by a priestess from the shrine of T'Karath.
And there he was then. And, aside of T'Ra, there was a child.
"Dif-tor heh smusma" greeted her, raising her hand in the traditional salute. The child emulated her to perfection, almost like an extension of her own body.
"Live long and prosper," he replied, his eyes focused on the boy. "You summoned me"
"I did," she replied, her face unperturbed. "My path to reach the Kolinahr is near to its end. The last impediments must be solved before the ritual.”
"I see," replied Selv. "He is young, but he could follow you."
"He has proved unsuitable for the task."
The boy remained undisturbed throughout the conversation, yet when his imperfection was noted, one of his thin eyebrows shook slightly. Nothing more.
Selv nodded slowly. Few Vulcans overcome the Kholinar after all.
"How shall I name him?" he finally asked.
"Seren" answered the kid, looking at Selv in the eyes for the first time. T'Ra glanced at the boy, but said nothing. It was obvious that the lack of ceremony bothered her deeply. The visitor, however, ignored that misstep.
"Greetings, Seren son of Selv, I`m Selv son of Solkar."
Seren waited at the door of the Academy. Straight back, hands perfectly crossed inside the sleeves. The expression strictly neutral. Lids closed over the dark eyes.
In other circumstances, he would be in a deep meditative state. But the sky was so blue and bright, the air so damp and the cadets so loud. The mixture of conversation, shouting and laughter was unsettling. It was too disorganized, too emotion-driven. Seren couldn't understand how one of the most competent organizations in the Federation was held by creatures so... imperfect.
The young Vulcan closed his eyes more tightly, trying to find his center, to purge all external influence. And he didn't see it coming.
The ball hit his forehead, unstabilised his posture and knocked him off the bench.
"You have killed him!"
"Hey, hey, are you okay, buddy? Shit!"
"You're a brute Mike, he's just a kid!"
"Uff, look, he's Vulcan, those pointy ears bastards are sturdy.... you're okay, right kiddo?"
A hand grabbed his wrist. Seren opened his eyes suddenly and looked at that human that tried to get him back on his feet. Seren pulled his sleeve away from him and wrap hist wrist with his other hand. The cadet emotions had leaked into Seren. It felt as if he had been blind until then and suddenly an amalgam of color had unfolded before his eyes. It was too much. Intense and vibrant. He felt overwhelmed.
"Mike, you're an idiot, Vulcans are touch telepaths... Don't touch him" the girl chastised the male cadet. The redhead squatted beside him, but kept her distance. " Are you OK?"
Seren unfolded his hands and took one to his temple. The area was tender and painful, but it didn't seem seriously damaged. "I will survive," he replied at the end.
"Ha! And they said that Vulcans have no sense of humour." snorted the human named Mike. Seren blinked confusedly, not knowing what he meant.
Several weeks after the incident, during the end meal, Seren revealed his intention to join Starfleet.
"Up to this moment you have always stated that you would return to the Sanctuary when you became an adult," Selv argued.
"I did, but I have changed my mind." answered the youngest Vulcan.
Selv looked at his offspring, trying to read some subtle expression on his face. As on any other occasion, nothing disturbed his son's placid face.
"Elaborate that answer," he finally asked.
"Starfleet is the ultimate portrait of IDIC, and must be preserved. As Vulcans, we must be the voice of logic in the Fleet, and guide it through that path," Seren explained.
"Some will accuse you of having a paternalistic view of other species. Even arrogance. I can not disagree with them," Selv warned.
"However, I have chosen to serve, not command. I have traced my career through the care of others."
"Body or mind?"
Seren didn't answer immediately, which was a rarity by itself. Selv raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"I am not sure," Seren finally confessed.
"You can not join yet, you have time to decide." Somehow, Selv was grateful that his son didn't always have all the answers.
Seren nodded and stood to remove the plates. The conversation has ended.
Seren played the lute. His fingers moved methodically on the strings, unfolding an ancient composition, prior to Surak's time. It was an excellent exercise, a way to increase the dexterity of his fingers. Mathematics made sound.
The sonata ascended on a particularly complicated scale, Seren's fingers moved from one end of the strings to the other. It was said that this song emulated a sandstorm in the Forge. Seren was in agreement.
Two hooded figures appeared on the lintel of his door. Still, Seren didn't stop his music.
"Seren son of Selv" said one of the figures. Only then did the young man's fingers move away from the musical instrument and look at the visitors. Both wore the priests' robes from the T'Karath temple. A garment that Seren know too well. He had worn one for most part of his life.
"We were sent to inform you that the High Priestess T'Ra perished on stardate 44965.82."
Seren nodded gravely, his fingers not pulling away from the strings, but the cords made no sound. He stared at the acolytes for a few long minutes, trying to elaborate on the question he wanted to ask. " Her katra..."
"It has been collected in an urn as the tradition requires, and it reposes under the Sanctuary."
Seren's nod was almost imperceptible and after it he looked back at the strings of his harp. His digits moved again on the cords, just in the compass in which he had been interrupted.
Once their mission was accomplished, the acolytes bid Selv farewell with a Tal'al. Seren's father accompanied them to the front door and then came back to the boy's room as soon as he was able.
"We can visit the Sanctuary in two days," suggested Selv, his dark eyes staring at his son's short curls.
The lyre made a discordant note. Seren interrupted the music, stretched out his fingertips and put them back on the strings. "No." He just replied, as he played the piece again from the first chord.
Selv had prepared him for what he would find at the Academy. The classes were simple, he was used to Vulcan discipline and to sharpening body and mind for his own development. Relationships with other cadets were more confusing and what really troubled him. Fortunately, he had recently been granted a dispensation that allowed him to spend the nights in his father's home, rather than in the common dorms, which permitted him to meditate longer. And he really needed it. The burden of sharing space with such unpredictable creatures was heavy some days.
Like that one. One of his classmates had cried because of a comment Seren had made. He had only given a logical vision to solve the problem she claimed to be experiencing. The rest of his classmates had later claimed that his words had been unnecessarily cruel and heartless. Seren had replied that his heart was beating correctly in his body or he couldn't be maintaining that senseless conversation. And, for some reason, everyone seemed to have been annoyed.
The young Vulcan didn't mind being considered cruel. But he had to learn how to maintain neutral relationships with emotional beings, since these would be the majority of his patients. However, their reactions didn't seem to follow any pattern. He had to work on that aspect. He had to consult Selv about it, after all his father taught sociology.
When he entered in Selv's house, he discovered that he wasn't alone, as he was accustomed to those hours. That disturbed him deeply. Seren preferred to be warned in advance of changes in his routines.
His father waved for him to join him and the three people at his table. One of the visitors was a human woman. The other was a pale, long-haired Vulcan woman. Seren had seen her briefly at the Academy, so he deduced that she was Selv's coworker. He remembered her name. Hathev. He hadn't participated in the classes she taught. The third visitor was another young Vulcan, about his age.
Seren sat next to him, as was appropriate.
"Allow me to introduce Seren, who is my son," Selv said.
Hathev nodded elegantly, as acknowledgement of his presence. The human waved and smiled broadly, in the manner of her species. The young Vulcan looked at him with manifest curiosity, which deeply disturbed Seren. His control over his emotions seemed clearly deficient. It was unacceptable.
Worse still, the other young man looked much like himself. Both had tanned skin and dark eyes. And the slightly crooked nose that Seren had inherited from his father. They shared more features than the young visitor shared with either of the two women that had came with him. Seren had questions to ask, but he knew it wasn't the time to get answers.
The day seemed to get even more complicated.
Seren watched, hands crossed behind his back, as the ship left the Sol System. The star that had illuminated his days at the Academy and bathed his father's home was barely a slightly brighter spot on the canvas of background stars. Once they jumped into WARP, there would be no turning back and they would become fugitives.
However, their Captain's decision had been the right one. The evidences were plain, even if from an external perspective they defied logic. If he were someone else, if he hadn't seen what he had seen, Seren would have declared Ives mad, and incapable of command. However difficult it might be to believe, the Chamaleoid's actions were the only logical solution to the situation. Albeit hasty.
Emotional creatures tended to act quickly, far more than he liked. They didn't think long term. Or not as long term as a Vulcan did. So, despite his reticence, all Seren could do was support his CO, and keep working. However, it was the first time in his life that he wasn't sure what the future had in store for him. And he didn't like the feeling. Moreover, in the situation in which the crew was being thrown in, his services were going to be more important than ever. And Seren had sworn to serve. And that's what he would do...
"He's very distraught and won't stop moving, if he keeps doing that he'll only get the bulkhead falling on him." The engineer explained while Seren was still approaching the affected area.
When they finally reached it, even the Vulcan had to make an effort to keep his expression imperturbable: the crewman was pierced from side to side, almost cut in half. The human whimpered and shaken in shock, preventing engineers and paramedics from doing their job at the risk of collapse.
"Reuel" called him Seren, squatting beside him. The human looked at him with wild eyes, and extended and contracted his fingers until he managed to hook them on the sleeve of Seren's uniform.
"Counselor Seren" wept the human.
"You must remain still, so that they can extract you," said the Vulcan. His fingers slid over the crewman's bloody wrist and closed over the broken bones. Pain, fear and despair leaked through the contact of their skins, as well as confusing images of the corridor collapsing on the man.
" You are scared. Your body is flooded with adrenaline, which makes your blood move faster. You are bleeding more quickly. The pain is more acute." he explained coldly. "Your own emotional reaction is preventing the treatment of your wounds and..."
He didn't finish the sentence. A new impact shook the corridor. When the inertial dampers started to work again, the crewman Smith had disappeared, along with part of the corridor. In its place was the unmistakable shape of a torpedo.
"Flee," Seren commanded the health workers as he rose to his feet in rapid motion. Then he began to sprint, not looking back. The rest of the crew only took a few seconds to follow him.
None of them got very far.
The torpedo exploded and the shock wave reached them all.
When Seren opened his eyes, he felt a sharp pain in the side, below the ribs. Slowly, he craned his neck to observe the damage he had suffered. The left part of his body was covered with shrapnel, turning it into a greenish mass difficult to define. A girder went through him from side to side, where the humans had the liver. And where the Vulcans had the heart. Seren blinked and tried to concentrate his efforts on stabilising his erratic heartbeat, but for the first time since his childhood, he was unable to do so. He wouldn't last long. But he couldn't free himself either.
With measured movements, he pulsed his combadge.
"Ensign Seren to sickbay. I was injured in an explosion on deck seven. I have suffered massive damage to the heart and other organs. I will lose consciousness within the next minute due to lack of blood. My heart will stop in three minutes unless further cardiac tearing develops and my brain will follow... shortly thereafter. I am going to immerse myself in a comatose state to prolong my chances of survival, but I cannot adequately foresee how long I can keep my system functioning. I require immediate medical assistance."
His mouth filled with blood with the last sentence, pouring down his chin and neck. Seren closed his eyes, and he concentrated on keeping alive.
Seren was ambitious, intelligent and disciplined, with almost artificial perseverance and perfectionism. His demeanour was restrained, frugal in words and virtually inexpressive, following the best values of an upbringing based on the precepts of Surak. Having repressed his emotions from an earlier age than most of his compatriots, Seren could be cold and distant, blunt to the point of rudeness. Seren believed that rational behaviour was the only valid way to conduct himself and that his task was to enlighten the lives of emotional beings with the advantages of logic. While he never tried to fully impose this mentality on his peers and patients due to the concept of IDIC, he couldn't help but be self-righteous and patronising with the most vehement individuals. That typically Vulcan arrogance hid his inability to deal with his own emotions and showed his youth between his people.
Seren's inner wasteland urged him to seek casual contact with other people, so that those slight brushes activate his touch telepathy skills. In that way he could have glimpses of emotions for himself. This behaviour bordered on the pathological and Seren was ashamed of it, and tried to hide it at all costs. Sometimes he wore gloves to try to control this impulse. However, he always ended up involved in social events that he didn't seem to fit into. This lack of self-control troubled him deeply and he linked it to the inadequacy for which his mother had estranged him from her.
Perhaps because of all this, his approach to logic was adaptable enough to always match what he needed. And it was very difficult to make him change his mind.
Seren had the constitution of a long-distance runner, light, of short stature and compact constitution. He tried to be sparing with gestures and maintain an upright and elegant posture, but this made him look stiff and standoffish. He kept his hair extremely short, instead of the traditional Vulcan style for practicality.
After the injuries that led to cryogenic stasis, much of Seren's left side had to be replaced by cybernetic implants. This included his heart, one of his lungs and part of other organs. While most of these implants were hidden by the uniform, their extension was such that they could be seen above the collar of his shirt, on the left of his neck.
He rarely wore a uniform, he preferred civilian clothes traditional Vulcan tunics, long and voluminous, in the style reserved for priests or solemn ceremonies. On the rare occasions he wore uniform, it was so wrinkle-free that he seemed to have ironed it when he was put on it, enhancing his image of strictness
Seren was a strong telepath among his people, and a casual touch allowed him to feel snippets of other people's emotions and thoughts, if they weren't being actively shielded or if they were very intense. In spite of this, everything he could read was fragmentary and out of context and in order to properly read another person's mind, he needed to perform a mind melt, like the rest of his kind.
Aldea Prime Anthology
- "Day 01, 0955 hrs. Acting on a Thawt" After five months on ice, the new assets of the medical department allow Seren to be treated.
- "Day 01, 2000 hrs. A Bit of Light Reading" While visiting the library looking for tranquility, the quiet is disturbed by the temperamental Jaya Thorne .
- "Day 02, 1430 hrs. Too few hours in a day" Counseling session with Carrigan Trent
- "Day 05, 1300 hrs. Egos, Emotions & Expletives" A first check out session with Cross
- "Day 06, 2345 hrs. Far From the Tree" A stroll in the Arboterium drives to strange meetings
- "Day 07 1100 hrs. The More Things Change..." A therapy session with Marija Ferik
- "Day 10 2034 hrs. Lads Night Out" Seren takes a day off to attend to some conferences in Aldea
- "Day 11 1345 hrs. Murder, He Wrote" An illegitimate accusation led Seren to investigate the murder of one of his patients, along with the ill-mannered Inej Avirim
- "Day 14 1235 hrs. Horticultural Homicide" Sometimes is needed to ask help to strange partners to save a life
- "Day 20 2100 hrs . Poker Faces" A very important vulcan ritual