Vulcan Feelings
Aug. 17th, 2023 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydamorehouseUnder the cut is a very short fic based on my Star Trek Adventures (TTRP) game, which I've already talked about a lot here (and we all know that campaign stories are boring.)
Shoval’s spreadsheets worked, Counselor Sular decided, a bit too well.
Over the last several days there’d been a steady uptick of Vulcan crew members at his door. None of them had wanted to talk particularly and, instead, had preferred to sit in silent meditation. All of which was culturally appropriate, of course, but Sular had meditated so much lately that he was beginning to think he’d be willing to murder to have a chewy, emotionally stimulating talk therapy session for once.
So it was that when he opened his office door to T’Vondra, the ship’s military historian, he was not at all surprised when she marched past him without preamble towards the meditation corner. As he dutifully trailed behind her, Sular steeled himself for another several hours of silence. He was surprised to discover, as he settled himself into seiza, that she was pulling a pile of the za-button pillows around herself like a small, soft fortress wall.
Something about this action caused him to pause and ask, “Tea?”
“Yes. Strong tea would be most agreeable,” she said. He would have categorized her tone as almost snappish, but, of course, her affect was flat and unemotional. It was more that there was something about the way she kept pulling more and more pillows around herself that seemed… brittle.
Pulling himself up, he went over to the replicator to fetch tea for them both. As he waited for it to materialize he took a moment to observe this unusual client. He knew her by reputation, of course. Everyone on the Turing knew that T’Vondra was a Kirk Denier. If given a chance, she would explain, in great detail, how the Humans must be mistaken about just how many adventures James T. Kirk had gotten involved in, especially since so many of his accounts seemed self-aggrandizing and simply preposterous.
Sular had never met her, however. He was surprised by her deep auburn red hair, which she wore in a kind of spiky pompadour, though the sides and back of her head were shaved. It was actually quite a stylish look and not at all what he’d expected from someone who’d managed to get the reputation as a ‘nerd,’ even among other Vulcans.
T’Vonda was still piling pillows. By the time the tea was ready, she was nearly buried in them.
Before bringing the tea over, Sular took a moment to gather a few other things he thought she might appreciate. Setting the tea and a tray of fresh slices of gespar between them, he set about making a blanket fort for them both to huddle under.
She sipped her tea and seemed to watch what he was doing with an approving eye.
Once they were covered, Sular slipped inside and settled down across from her, still a nice distance away, giving her plenty of space. He tucked one of the remaining pillows that T’Vondra had not commandeered into his lap to hug lightly. He sat in a more relaxed, childish fashion, but said nothing.
This might be all they would do. The blanket fort was still a nice change from all the stiff, formal meditation and Sular could feel himself relaxing into it.
“Gespar is breakfast food,” she said after several moments. “And healthy. “ Now he thought he detected a bit of disappointment. This was confirmed when she continued, “I was told you had cookies.”
“My cookies contain animal by-products. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes, that’s acceptable.” He’d crawled half-way back out of the fort when he heard T’Vondra softly add, “Also, chocolate, if you have any.”
“But of course.”
In a moment he returned with cookies, chocolate, and a worn, stuffed shelat from his bed. He set everything down in between them without comment. T’Vondra stared at the plush animal for a few seconds, clearly making some kind of assessment before grabbing it and tucking it under her chin. It perched on top of all the pillows she had pressed against herself.
They sat like this for a few minutes, just companionably drinking tea and eating cookies and chocolate. Finally, T’Vondra said, “I’ve filed a report against our Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Li Meru.”
Ah, the crux of the matter. “I see. What will the report say?”
“That our Chief Engineer pushes buttons without thinking. This behavior shows a lack of intellectual rigor.”
Sular considered this statement. He had only seen Li Meru once or twice since joining the Turing Crew, though her reputation had preceded her. He remembered her as being very welcoming--if a bit baffled--at a Vulcan joining in the Bajoran Gratitude Festival gathering, even though the message on the crews’ board had said “all welcome.” Li Meru had been even more taken aback when he told her that he was specifically in attendance because he was grateful for her service to the Vulcans recovered from the generation ship assimilated by Borg, in particular in her role as the “Eye of Vulcan.”
Sular hadn’t been part of the Turing when those Vulcans had been rescued, but he’d heard of them both at Narendra Station and, of course, through the non-existent rumor mill that still talked about the curious choice of a Bajoran rather than any of themselves for this lofty role.
Having listened to all the gossips’ sour grapes, Sular had decided he quite liked the scrappy Li Meru.
“Bajorans, in large part, are a mystical and spiritual people,” Sular offered. “Faith requires its practitioners to sometimes disregard cautious approaches. Our Bajoran colleagues are occasionally inspired by their Prophets to--” Sular paused, trying to gauge how this particular phrasing might affect T’Vondra. But, then he decided to plunge onward, “--fuck around and find out.”
“It is illogical.” T’Vondra said with conviction, but Sular noticed she hugged the shelat a bit tighter and pulled her chin deeper into its faux fur fabric.
Sular cocked his head like an animal attempting to hear sounds undetectable to other species. He was beginning to appreciate the silent meditation sessions a bit more, as trying to untangle the emotional issues unexpressed by his Vulcan compatriots was… challenging, to say the least. “Could it be that there is something about your report to the captain regarding Li Meru that you now feel may be an overstatement or, possibly, in error?”
“No, my report was thorough and factual,” T’Vondra said quickly, but her chin dug deeper into the fluffy shelat.
“Very well,” Sular said, leaning forward to put his empty tea cup on the meditation mat. He tried and failed to catch her eye on his way back up. He let out a little breath. Entwining his fingers around the pillow nestled in his lap he said carefully, “However, it would be illogical to assume that you came to see the ship’s counselor for no reason.”
Despite his attempt to sound non-judgmental, Sular realized a moment too late how the accusation of illogicality would land. T’Vondra almost physically twitched. Then she uncurled herself to sit up straighter. She gave him a dark stare.
She then proceeded to eat several squares of chocolate while fiercely maintaining eye contact.
Finally, her mouth full, she said, “It is the ship’s counselor’s job to.…” T’Vondra’s gaze wavered momentarily. She swallowed the last of the chocolate and returned her eyes to him, her focus even sharper. “Fix things like this.”
“To fix anything, I must understand what is broken.” Sular said patiently. “Do you wish to repair something between yourself and Li Meru or a part of yourself?”
T’Vondra continued to stare at him. Then, quite unexpectedly, she went loose and flopped backwards onto the meditation mat with a thump. The pillows scattered around her, though some stayed on top of her torso, chest and breasts.
To the ceiling of the blanket fort, she said, “I’m unaccustomed to dealing with other people. Or rather, more precisely, I’m much more comfortable with those who think like I do. It can not be the fault of my personality alone, Counselor Sular. I was able to work with many different people when I was assigned as a Military Strategy Analyst on Starbase 34 during the Dominion War. We understood each other--Vulcans, Humans, Andorians, Bajorans, and even Klingons. Our theories were a thing of beauty, our analysis divine. The environment of the strategy and tactics war rooms suited me perfectly. I was part of a team that had mutual respect. How is it that the Turing is so different, so… chaotic? Why are the minds not as fine-tuned here?”
She missed her old crew. He could hear it in the words she chose to linger on and the soft, almost imperceptible sighs.
“Do you sometimes wish the war wasn’t over?”
She lifted her head enough to shoot him one of her dirtiest looks. “That would be illogical.”
“Logic has nothing to do with wishes,” he countered. “Some might consider such a sentiment inappropriate but there’s nothing unreasonable about a desire to return to a time when you felt you functioned at your best. There is nothing incorrect about missing your friends.”
“Except that such things are emotional, sentimental, foolish.”
Sular nibbled at the last remaining cookie, formulating his thoughts. He wanted to remind T’Vondra that all Vulcans felt emotions and she knew it or she wouldn’t be lying there in a pouting sort of funk. But, shouting at her to admit her feelings wouldn’t be constructive. In fact, he’d probably get reported to the captain as a potential Romulan spy.
Wiping the crumbs from his mouth, he stretched his legs. He crawled out from the tent to order himself a second cup of tea from the replicator and replenish the chocolate supply. From outside of the pillow fort, as he waited for the food to appear, he said, “It seems to me that what is more foolish than having the emotion is not recognizing the ways in which it might be interfering with one’s current duties and assignments. It sounds to me as though your time at headquarters was exceptional; your colleagues there were of a specific caliber you may never experience again in such abundance. But brilliance takes all forms. Like life, it comes in infinite diversity and in infinite combinations.”
He was still waiting for the tea to steep when he heard T’Vondra mutter: “I just don’t like her.”
There it was.
Returning to the replicator, he announced with some authority, “In my experience, ice cream is curative. Let us eat as a form of meditation. In the end, Li Meru may still be guided by a faith we can not comprehend and find unreasonable but at least our stomachs will be full.”
The silence seemed dubious.
“I should warn you, the fix may be temporary. With this prescription, I advise a liberal repetition should this issue cause you further trouble.”
Finally, “Make mine rocky road and I will find this acceptable.”
Since he was still outside of her line of vision, he allowed himself a small smile. ”It will be as you say.”
Shoval’s spreadsheets worked, Counselor Sular decided, a bit too well.
Over the last several days there’d been a steady uptick of Vulcan crew members at his door. None of them had wanted to talk particularly and, instead, had preferred to sit in silent meditation. All of which was culturally appropriate, of course, but Sular had meditated so much lately that he was beginning to think he’d be willing to murder to have a chewy, emotionally stimulating talk therapy session for once.
So it was that when he opened his office door to T’Vondra, the ship’s military historian, he was not at all surprised when she marched past him without preamble towards the meditation corner. As he dutifully trailed behind her, Sular steeled himself for another several hours of silence. He was surprised to discover, as he settled himself into seiza, that she was pulling a pile of the za-button pillows around herself like a small, soft fortress wall.
Something about this action caused him to pause and ask, “Tea?”
“Yes. Strong tea would be most agreeable,” she said. He would have categorized her tone as almost snappish, but, of course, her affect was flat and unemotional. It was more that there was something about the way she kept pulling more and more pillows around herself that seemed… brittle.
Pulling himself up, he went over to the replicator to fetch tea for them both. As he waited for it to materialize he took a moment to observe this unusual client. He knew her by reputation, of course. Everyone on the Turing knew that T’Vondra was a Kirk Denier. If given a chance, she would explain, in great detail, how the Humans must be mistaken about just how many adventures James T. Kirk had gotten involved in, especially since so many of his accounts seemed self-aggrandizing and simply preposterous.
Sular had never met her, however. He was surprised by her deep auburn red hair, which she wore in a kind of spiky pompadour, though the sides and back of her head were shaved. It was actually quite a stylish look and not at all what he’d expected from someone who’d managed to get the reputation as a ‘nerd,’ even among other Vulcans.
T’Vonda was still piling pillows. By the time the tea was ready, she was nearly buried in them.
Before bringing the tea over, Sular took a moment to gather a few other things he thought she might appreciate. Setting the tea and a tray of fresh slices of gespar between them, he set about making a blanket fort for them both to huddle under.
She sipped her tea and seemed to watch what he was doing with an approving eye.
Once they were covered, Sular slipped inside and settled down across from her, still a nice distance away, giving her plenty of space. He tucked one of the remaining pillows that T’Vondra had not commandeered into his lap to hug lightly. He sat in a more relaxed, childish fashion, but said nothing.
This might be all they would do. The blanket fort was still a nice change from all the stiff, formal meditation and Sular could feel himself relaxing into it.
“Gespar is breakfast food,” she said after several moments. “And healthy. “ Now he thought he detected a bit of disappointment. This was confirmed when she continued, “I was told you had cookies.”
“My cookies contain animal by-products. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes, that’s acceptable.” He’d crawled half-way back out of the fort when he heard T’Vondra softly add, “Also, chocolate, if you have any.”
“But of course.”
In a moment he returned with cookies, chocolate, and a worn, stuffed shelat from his bed. He set everything down in between them without comment. T’Vondra stared at the plush animal for a few seconds, clearly making some kind of assessment before grabbing it and tucking it under her chin. It perched on top of all the pillows she had pressed against herself.
They sat like this for a few minutes, just companionably drinking tea and eating cookies and chocolate. Finally, T’Vondra said, “I’ve filed a report against our Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Li Meru.”
Ah, the crux of the matter. “I see. What will the report say?”
“That our Chief Engineer pushes buttons without thinking. This behavior shows a lack of intellectual rigor.”
Sular considered this statement. He had only seen Li Meru once or twice since joining the Turing Crew, though her reputation had preceded her. He remembered her as being very welcoming--if a bit baffled--at a Vulcan joining in the Bajoran Gratitude Festival gathering, even though the message on the crews’ board had said “all welcome.” Li Meru had been even more taken aback when he told her that he was specifically in attendance because he was grateful for her service to the Vulcans recovered from the generation ship assimilated by Borg, in particular in her role as the “Eye of Vulcan.”
Sular hadn’t been part of the Turing when those Vulcans had been rescued, but he’d heard of them both at Narendra Station and, of course, through the non-existent rumor mill that still talked about the curious choice of a Bajoran rather than any of themselves for this lofty role.
Having listened to all the gossips’ sour grapes, Sular had decided he quite liked the scrappy Li Meru.
“Bajorans, in large part, are a mystical and spiritual people,” Sular offered. “Faith requires its practitioners to sometimes disregard cautious approaches. Our Bajoran colleagues are occasionally inspired by their Prophets to--” Sular paused, trying to gauge how this particular phrasing might affect T’Vondra. But, then he decided to plunge onward, “--fuck around and find out.”
“It is illogical.” T’Vondra said with conviction, but Sular noticed she hugged the shelat a bit tighter and pulled her chin deeper into its faux fur fabric.
Sular cocked his head like an animal attempting to hear sounds undetectable to other species. He was beginning to appreciate the silent meditation sessions a bit more, as trying to untangle the emotional issues unexpressed by his Vulcan compatriots was… challenging, to say the least. “Could it be that there is something about your report to the captain regarding Li Meru that you now feel may be an overstatement or, possibly, in error?”
“No, my report was thorough and factual,” T’Vondra said quickly, but her chin dug deeper into the fluffy shelat.
“Very well,” Sular said, leaning forward to put his empty tea cup on the meditation mat. He tried and failed to catch her eye on his way back up. He let out a little breath. Entwining his fingers around the pillow nestled in his lap he said carefully, “However, it would be illogical to assume that you came to see the ship’s counselor for no reason.”
Despite his attempt to sound non-judgmental, Sular realized a moment too late how the accusation of illogicality would land. T’Vondra almost physically twitched. Then she uncurled herself to sit up straighter. She gave him a dark stare.
She then proceeded to eat several squares of chocolate while fiercely maintaining eye contact.
Finally, her mouth full, she said, “It is the ship’s counselor’s job to.…” T’Vondra’s gaze wavered momentarily. She swallowed the last of the chocolate and returned her eyes to him, her focus even sharper. “Fix things like this.”
“To fix anything, I must understand what is broken.” Sular said patiently. “Do you wish to repair something between yourself and Li Meru or a part of yourself?”
T’Vondra continued to stare at him. Then, quite unexpectedly, she went loose and flopped backwards onto the meditation mat with a thump. The pillows scattered around her, though some stayed on top of her torso, chest and breasts.
To the ceiling of the blanket fort, she said, “I’m unaccustomed to dealing with other people. Or rather, more precisely, I’m much more comfortable with those who think like I do. It can not be the fault of my personality alone, Counselor Sular. I was able to work with many different people when I was assigned as a Military Strategy Analyst on Starbase 34 during the Dominion War. We understood each other--Vulcans, Humans, Andorians, Bajorans, and even Klingons. Our theories were a thing of beauty, our analysis divine. The environment of the strategy and tactics war rooms suited me perfectly. I was part of a team that had mutual respect. How is it that the Turing is so different, so… chaotic? Why are the minds not as fine-tuned here?”
She missed her old crew. He could hear it in the words she chose to linger on and the soft, almost imperceptible sighs.
“Do you sometimes wish the war wasn’t over?”
She lifted her head enough to shoot him one of her dirtiest looks. “That would be illogical.”
“Logic has nothing to do with wishes,” he countered. “Some might consider such a sentiment inappropriate but there’s nothing unreasonable about a desire to return to a time when you felt you functioned at your best. There is nothing incorrect about missing your friends.”
“Except that such things are emotional, sentimental, foolish.”
Sular nibbled at the last remaining cookie, formulating his thoughts. He wanted to remind T’Vondra that all Vulcans felt emotions and she knew it or she wouldn’t be lying there in a pouting sort of funk. But, shouting at her to admit her feelings wouldn’t be constructive. In fact, he’d probably get reported to the captain as a potential Romulan spy.
Wiping the crumbs from his mouth, he stretched his legs. He crawled out from the tent to order himself a second cup of tea from the replicator and replenish the chocolate supply. From outside of the pillow fort, as he waited for the food to appear, he said, “It seems to me that what is more foolish than having the emotion is not recognizing the ways in which it might be interfering with one’s current duties and assignments. It sounds to me as though your time at headquarters was exceptional; your colleagues there were of a specific caliber you may never experience again in such abundance. But brilliance takes all forms. Like life, it comes in infinite diversity and in infinite combinations.”
He was still waiting for the tea to steep when he heard T’Vondra mutter: “I just don’t like her.”
There it was.
Returning to the replicator, he announced with some authority, “In my experience, ice cream is curative. Let us eat as a form of meditation. In the end, Li Meru may still be guided by a faith we can not comprehend and find unreasonable but at least our stomachs will be full.”
The silence seemed dubious.
“I should warn you, the fix may be temporary. With this prescription, I advise a liberal repetition should this issue cause you further trouble.”
Finally, “Make mine rocky road and I will find this acceptable.”
Since he was still outside of her line of vision, he allowed himself a small smile. ”It will be as you say.”