Graham feels just a little wobbly on his feet, but not enough to need a cane or crutch. His wound aches slightly.
Thalen replies to Kylah, I'll have the Vulcan lute delivered to your quarters shortly. You don't need to be there to receive it.
Dr. T'Var enters the room and, sensing the tension, raises an eyebrow. "Welcome, Mr. Rangin, Mr. Kylah," she says.
Graham's frozen in place for a moment, raising an eyebrow at Nia and glsncing briefly at Dr. T'Var. He turns toward Rangin. "As a friend...of mine?" He almost suggests that maybe Rangin ought to have himself checked out in Sickbay.
He can't even imagine what kind of game Rangin might be playing. He lowers his hands, then replies with...what would he call it? "Flat politeness?"
"There doesn't seem to be any permanent damage." After a brief pause he adds "thanks."
He glances again at Nia, then turns toward Kylah. "Mr. Kylah," he says, now in a normal conversational tone--in point of fact, with some authentic concern. "From your message, it seemed you might not have been feeling well yesterday--how are you doing?"
Kylah has been looking from Velir to Mr. Graham and back again, as if she were the one in threat of physical harm. Velir's words are almost devoid of inflection, as are Mr. Graham's. They could almost be participants in some religious rite--one spoken so often it is now rote.
Who suggested this? Who believes they are friends? She does not understand any of this.
She realizes Mr. Graham has addressed her. "Thank you, sir, I am better," she says, the use of the title automatic to her by now. "I was... I had not slept during the mission for a long time, and for some reason I have been more tired than usual. It is nothing compared to you. I am so relieved to see you like this." A smile flickers, genuinely felt, but she is terribly conscious of Velir's presence and does not wish to seem too... friendly? Pleased that he has not been permanently harmed? Why should she censor herself, when these are thoroughly natural sentiments from one colleague to another?
But she does not continue. Guiltily, she needs to find somewhere neutral, and so she turns to T'Var. "Doctor," she begins, stepping awkwardly up to the older woman. "May I see you tomorrow, at some point? I am in need of..." She bites her lip for a second and continues, "A checkup. Just to make sure my tiredness is simply to be expected after having disrupted my sleep pattern for so long. I would make it today but, with the service and all, I would rather wait. It is not an emergency."
Kylah's voice lowers. "Most of all, I am very sorry about Lt. Fujishiro. I... I hope you are all right."
Nia leans back, relaxing when it's clear this isn't going to be a boxing match. She tries to engage Kylah with an amused smile at the absurd dance the two men are engaging in, but the girl seems unable to notice anything but the potential combatants.
Booker's response almost gets a laugh from her. Boy, was I right. He can't sell insincerity, bless his heart.
Dr. T'Var says, "I greatly regret Mr. Fujishiro's death but otherwise am fine, thank you, Ensign." She thinks a moment. "You are welcome to come by after the service, if you wish; I would not wish you to have another unrestful night, if that is the problem. Otherwise, I will expect you tomorrow at... shall we say 0830?"
Kylah is about to explain that she is not worried about too little sleep, rather too much--but she does not want to elaborate in front of the others. "Yes, thank you, doctor. I had better go." When she turns, she notes Lt. Onn's apparent amusement at all this, which makes Kylah frown automatically in mute disapproval. She just bids the ranking officer a good morning, looks at Velir wondering if he will be leaving as well, and finally aims her gaze at Mr. Graham. A second or two passes as she decides whether a quick exit is best. But no. She does not want Velir to be angry with her, but neither does she want to be afraid to show concern for someone who has looked out for her in the past.
She steps nearer to the security officer. "Mr. Graham. Again I apologize for not seeing you earlier. It is wonderful that you have healed so quickly. Please take care to rest, sir." After a slight hesitation, she tentatively holds out her hand.
Rangin wonders if he should make a comment about the apparent ease with which Mr Graham has recovered at the hands of the Medical team as compared to Fujishiro. Regardless, he moves slightly to one side as Kylah holds out her hand to Graham, giving her a little room.
But then, Rangin realises, he's not the one with the problem, It's Graham who can't get over what ever Graham's problem is. And no doubt if Graham decided to start anything again, Vargas and Roble would probably tear strips off him worse than the Klingon disruptor could and Rangin had more important things to do.
"Agreed, good to see you up and around again," Rangin nods towards Graham and then shrugs, turning and moving towards Dr T'Var.
"Ma'am, I still feel I should apologise to you..." Rangin relaxes, talking almost conversationally to someone who is far less likely to be an idiot, "...for my conduct towards you on the shuttle back from Sakath station. It was wrong."
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
"Thank you, Ensign," T'Var replies. "It seems a long time ago, but I appreciate your saying that. Please do not trouble yourself about it further."
Graham still can't figure out what kind of act Rangin was intending to perform, but Rangin appears to have fulfilled whatever purpose he had in offering his condolences.
But whatever--he's relieved to see Kylah voluntarily asking T'Var for help with whatever it is that's putting her off.
He smiles slightly and takes her hand, first as a handshake but then adding his other hand to give hers a gently squeeze. "There's no need to apologize. And--while we're sort of on the subject of being able to deal with Klingons--or anything or anyone else that poses a threat..."--he forces himself to stay looking at Kylah, however much his instincts tempt him to glance at Ragin--"I won't let the leg keep us from our date in the gym."
He starts to let go of her hand, then adds, hastily, remembering that however human Kylah looks, their previous interactions have driven home the point that he shouldn't take for granted she's familiar with any number of things someone leading a quote-unquote "normal life" might be. "Uh--appointment, I mean. Figure of speech." He nods, trying to end on an encouraging note. "As soon as the Doc says we're both up to it, make sure to bring your knives."
Kylah's hand is comfortably warm between Mr. Graham's, and his clarification regarding the 'date' almost makes her smile. Until he mentions the knives. She also hears Velir's words to T'Var, and purses her lips but does not otherwise react.
"I had forgotten your offer. Thank you. But I do not have my knives any longer. I lost the first on the Sakathian mission, and the second--the second was one of the things stolen from me on Anubis." She focuses on their clasped hands rather than meet his gaze. "I do not like being without them. They are...were...the only weapon skill I had. I am a poor shot with a phaser. And in hand-to-hand combat, I am useless. There is no danger on board the ship, but at some point I may be able to go on a mission again. Or even on shore leave..."
With one brief shake of her head, she stops and slips her hand free. "Anyway, it can wait until you are fully recovered. Thank you, sir. Good day, Ma'am," she adds respectfully to Lt. Onn, then backs away to the exit, looking at Velir.
"Yes," Collins tells Cooper "I've eaten, but I will sit with you. Which Mess?"
Cooper asks, "How about Mess Hall 2? The eggs taste better there, somehow."
Kylah's communicator shakes again. Brooks and Anand will meet you in Rec Room 4 at 1000 to rehearse, if that suits you. I've reserved it so you'll have some privacy and quiet. THALEN.
"I'll be right there," Collins says, and heads off to meet Cooper.
Rangin nods to Dr. T'Var. "Thank you ma'am. I hope the circumstances never arise again." He turns back towards the rest of the group and notices Kylah's communicator going again. He shakes his head in amusement, it seemed the Comms. Officer is being just that: always in communication.
Rangin nods briefly to Lt. Onn. "Ma'am," before turning and heading for the exit next to Kylah. Noticing her watching him, he stops and waits to see if she is going to ask him anything.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Kylah quickly thanks Thalen and looks back up at Velir. "I will not be on duty today," she says, preceding him out of the Sickbay. Her quarters are on this deck, so she does not need to use the turbolift, but she accompanies Velir nonetheless. "I have to rehearse--I really am performing at the service this afternoon. Lt. Thalen has been very... persuasive... and has arranged everything." She clutches her communicator almost prayerfully. "I am nervous. No one knows me, or has heard me play. And it is a new instrument. I hope I do not let him down. Or Lt. Fujishiro," she adds in a murmur.
She shakes her head as they reach the turbolift, and stares up at Velir. "Is your watch on the Bridge? Or are you working with that experiment again?"
Graham sighs, watching Kylah walk away, then turns to Nia.
"I guess a Starfleet ship wouldn't have replacement Elasian knives lying around," he says quietly and ruefully. "I didn't mean to step in it there and, ah...re-open old wounds. Or maybe new wounds." He shakes his head. "Well...I guess I've still got work on tact for your list of stuff I come through on. But..." he perks up a bit. "Breakfast, still?"
Nodding, Nia holds back the impulse to slip her arm through the crook of Booker's. Wouldn't it be nice to be a normal couple, walking to some restaurant, or perhaps a garden for a picnic? But they're not, they're both Starfleet officers on their ship and she's a superior officer, to boot. Public displays of affection must be restricted to shore leaves... and even then it's not the best idea. Nia's not one for hiding her feelings or bowing to conventions, but this one she has to adhere to.
Which, frankly, sucks.
She clasps her hands behind her back and walks with Booker, relatively slowly, into the corridor. "As far as tact, you did fine. I know you're fond of the girl, and I'm not saying anything against her, but if you try to watch your step and tiptoe around everything that gets Kylah all 'het up,' to quote a friend of mine, you're gonna have some very callused toes. And I like your feet the way they are," she adds in a playful murmur.
"Now. Do you have a big appetite, or has Sickbay's exquisite menu spoiled you for our humble Mess?"
Collins arrives at Mess 2 and looks around for Cooper.
Cooper is there and waves at Collins; he has a table for two already. A tray with scrambled eggs, sausage, toast and coffee - two mugs - rests before him.
Graham glances sideways at Nia as they walk and talk, and smiles slightly. "Mess will do fine. Race you."
Just in case she's tempted to take him literally and take off, he clears his throat and adds, "Well, no."
Collins sits next to Cooper and whispers "I wish I could hug you and hold you right now, but I'll settle for an under-the-table hand squeeze" She holds her hand towards him and waits for him to take it.
"My watch is on the Bridge for today, though it will be short due to the service this afternoon. Tomorrow, I believe I will be starting work again on the prototype." Rangin turns and faces Kylah. "When it comes to the service you will do fine, I'm sure that you will do everyone proud with your ability, even if it is not on..." the words fade away as Rangin tries not to fill in that she would normally be playing her zither, which was now little more than rubble and dust.
The turbolift door opens and Rangin steps in. "Kylah, from what I've seen of your recitals, you will be fine. I'll see you later." He lets the door close behind him and calls for the bridge.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Kylah watches the turbolift door close behind Velir. She cannot tell what he is feeling--and not just because she lacks her empathic ability. He seemed so formal, so remote. He spoke to her like a polite stranger. It could very well be that he is grieving for Fujishiro, but... he did not seem to know his fellow science officer that well. Did I say something wrong? What could I have done to offend him? He did not even wish me good luck. Just "you will be fine." Again, the words of a stranger.
She starts down the corridor, goosebumps up and down her arms as if chilly. All Kylah has now is the external signs of people's emotions, and they are so difficult to read, so shallow. Velir's feelings are even harder to discern than most; he is so careful and cautious. Well-mannered, usually, even when angry. A culture of masks, she thinks, shaking her head and sighing.
Once she turns a corner, she stops. She has the strangest sense of deja vu. Kylah was almost expecting someone to be standing at the other end of the corridor, outside her door. Some memory? Confused, she starts forward, mulling over Velir's words. And then she frowns. "...From what I've seen of your recitals..."
Kylah has not performed in public--outside of Elas--since the Academy. Velir has never said he'd attended one of her student concerts while their years overlapped. Why would he not have told her before? She does not understand, and the discrepancy bothers her.
Still mulling this over, she reaches her door, presses the hand panel, and enters. But before she takes a step inside, she gets a sudden choking sensation, intense fear rising and suffocating her, as if knowing a predator is nearby. Whirling around, Kylah stares wildly down the corridor in both directions, breathing heavily.
No one is there.
She backs up and slams her hand to close and lock the door. The deja vu is stronger now, and she looks around, still backing up while wrapping her arms around her. The quarters are empty, of course. The only change from earlier this morning is a medium-sized instrument, the Vulcan lute Thalen promised her, lying on her bed. She walks up to it slowly, taking deeper, longer breaths to calm down, and brushes a finger along the lute's strings. Each note resonates deeply within her, calming her as music usually does.
Whatever just happened to cause such a panic, Kylah cannot dwell on it. There is no time: she must get reacquainted with this type of instrument, which is fairly similar to the various mandolins, lutes and guitars she learned during her music studies. Seating herself on the bed, she takes up the lute and tries to remember the right finger placements to produce the chords and melodies she usually uses to warm up. After she feels comfortable, she looks at her clock and realizes it is nearly time for the rehearsal.
Cursing at herself for having forgotten the most important part--the music--Kylah moves to her terminal and performs a search for the piece she has in mind. She takes care to transpose the parts into the appropriate voicing to match each of the three instruments that will be performing later, then sets up the program that will turn these files into printable copies--and then transfers it to her tricorder. Once she gets to the rehearsal space, which fortunately has a replicator, she will access the program again and use the replicator to produce the required sheet music.
Finished at last. Kylah grabs the lute and rushes to Rec Room 4.
Last edited by choie; 22 Mar 2016 at 06:01 PM.
Cooper takes Collins's hand with a smile and gives it a warm squeeze, then holds out a mug to her. "Want some, or am I gonna be drinking both of these?"
Onn and Graham arrive and see Cooper and Collins there; Mess Hall 2 is otherwise beginning to empty out for the morning.
Rangin finds Roble already at Science I on the Bridge, and sits down at the Science II station instead. Roble nods welcomingly to him. Capt. Singh is in the big chair and chatting quietly with Dr. Villa. The stars stream past on the main viewscreen.
In Rec Room 4, Kylah is soon joined by Command Lt. JG John Brooks, a friendly-faced young navigator with his silver flute already in hand, and Medical Spec/3 Orapin Anand, an older Thai woman who carefully takes her khim out of its case. "What would you like us to play, Ensign?" Brooks asks Kylah. "Mr. Thalen suggested we follow your lead."
After noting the presence of Collins and Cooper, Nia takes a deep breath and accompanies Booker to the replicator. "We can get real food if you want. For me, I'm running out of time before my watch, so replicated mush is on the menu." She orders a citrus and carrot juice shake, beaten with egg custard for protein and topped with wheat germ. Then she eyes Booker. "Here," she says, leaning over for a tray. "If you do get something, I'll carry it. Now, do you want to sit alone, or have a nice awkward foursome with Collins and Cooper?"
Hugging the lute to her, Kylah greets Brooks and Anand respectfully before moving to the replicator. She lifts her tricorder and sets it up to sync with the replicator, so she can transfer data between them. While concentrating on the commands, she says distractedly, "I wish to perform a work from several centuries ago. It is by a composer from--"
Kylah catches herself barely in time. She has forgotten herself; these two are not her family's royal musicians, to be ordered around as her own personal accompanists. Swallowing, Kylah starts again. "I mean... I thought, if you both find it suitable, we might play a piece from your planet--that is, Lt. Fujishiro's planet: the Pavane by Gabriel Fauré, the French composer? It is not very long, only five or six minutes, though that depends on the tempo... I think it is beautiful and... not quite sad, but pensive. What do you think, will that be all right?"
She looks back at the others hopefully, then adds in a rush, "I know it is normally a work for a small orchestra, but there are several other arrangements for smaller ensembles. I customized one for us, using your instruments' range and style of performance. The flute has the melody, the klim will play the harmony and some of the melody as well--it is usually for woodwinds such as clarinets and oboes. And the lute will take the pizzicato usually performed by the string section."
Oh be still, let them talk, she thinks to herself as she returns to focus on transferring the data, which is soon accomplished. If she has been successful, the replicator should produce several pages of sheet music for Anand; then she will do the same for Brooks, and finally for herself.
Collins smile a little. "When have I ever said 'no' to coffee?" She takes the mug and drinks. "Will you be at the service this afternoon? I've been told I should say something, but I didn't know her that well. We came aboard on the same shuttle, and worked two missions together, but I never had a conversation with her. I wouldn't know what to say."
Brooks nods. "I like the Pavane very much, although I don't think I've ever played it. It's certainly suitable for a funeral, though." Anand says, "I don't know it, but I'm sure I can pick it up." You three begin to rehearse, and it goes well. They are both talented musicians, too.
Cooper tucks into his breakfast. "Yes, I'll be there. I'm always sorry to lose a crewmate, and I think it's important to mark the occasion, sad as it is. As for what you should say - well, you know, just speak from the heart. Think of something about her that you liked, or that you think others might not know about her, and talk about that."
Rangin notices that the Yorktown and the Naradraen are both on a slightly different course than when he went off-duty yesterday.
Graham orders scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon, then glances a bit sheepishly at Nia as he doubles his order and adds fried potatoes to it.
"Uh, must be the healing...really hungry all of a sudden." He glances toward Collins and Cooper then gestures toward an empty table.
"If we sit alone you can tell me more about how great I am." After a moment, he smacked his forehead. "And--shit--I left the flower in Sick Bay...I'll hustle--er, hobble--down there before I go on duty to get it."
He reaches for his tray. "Ah--OK, you can carry it if you want to, I won't put up an argument. But it's really OK. Strength, remember?" he adds, puffing out his chest.
Nia curses inwardly. "I'm sorry, Book. I should've remembered the flower. It's something I value, I promise." Her voice softens a bit as she smiles. "Guess I was preoccupied with something I value even more."
She places her shake on the tray and eases it from his grasp. "As for strength, you might want to save that strength for more, uh, interesting endeavors. Plus, I'll have the flower taken to my quarters. You don't have to hobble anywhere."
She parks the tray on a nearby table and, not making a big deal of it, 'accidentally' kicks the chair meant for Booker backwards, so he'll find it easier to sit. Then she sits and pushes the wealth of food in front of Booker.
"Dig in." Still smiling, she lifts her drink and takes a large swallow, finishing half the shake in one go. Then she sets it down and, leaning her elbows on the table, examines Booker. "Now, about how great you are..."
Graham and Onn, and Collins and Cooper, have pleasant meals together. Rehearsal goes well for Kylah and her trio. Rangin stands an uneventful watch on the Bridge.
Time passes, and before you know it, it is ten minutes to Fujishiro's funeral.
With the watch nearly over, Rangin asks permission from the Bridge to leave so he can go and prepare for Fujishiro's funeral. He is in no doubt that Roble will be doing likewise.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
While walking to the service, Nia ponders what it will be like. They are never easy, but there's something worse about this loss. Fujishiro effectively died on the Sakathian station, a victim of a particularly brutal and unpredictable enemy; she's been lying in state for several weeks. Not for the first time, Nia wonders if whoever was responsible for that pernicious lab experiment will see justice.
At least Fujishiro's family had time to receive the message that she was comatose and not expected to live. This will be heartbreaking but, hopefully, they've had time to start the grieving process.
Nia can't remember the last time someone wasn't just killed outright--or as good as--with the funeral held soon after. Normally the events occur far too soon for the family to learn the news.
It could've so easily been Booker. Nia inhales sharply at the thought and unconsciously puts a hand over her stomach, as if holding her emotions in. I would have had to tell his family... his daughter, and... his sister, he said he had just one, didn't he? A strange sensation of anxiety flutters through her. She doesn't know enough about Booker to know whom she'd have to speak to if her thickheaded actions caused his death. Of course it'll be in his personnel file, but it's not the same thing.
Nia darts her gaze around, trying to find Booker. She wants very much to sit beside him, if he doesn't mind.
Last edited by SidonianGal; 24 Mar 2016 at 07:07 PM.
Collins waits outside the chapel for Cooper so that they can sit together. As she waits, people arrive and exchange condolences with her before going in.
With a polite smile Kylah acknowledges her fellow musicians and how well they sound together. They are easily as accomplished as she is, particularly due to her unfamiliarity with the lute.
At first she feared she would never get used to it, despite her earlier practice. Starting out, she made several elementary mistakes in fingering because of the Vulcan Lute's string arrangement--twelve, versus thirty-five in an Elasian zither--not to mention its use of a different clef.
Fortunately, she soon found herself able to adjust, allowing her to stop apologizing for requiring a slower tempo early on. As the others rise, she takes a few moments to close her eyes and run through scales by touch and spatial memory alone. Of course, the tips of her fingers are raw and sore; it has been a while since she plucked or pressed down on metal strings such as are on the lute, and she lacks the calluses most experienced players of such an instrument develop on their hands.
I am glad this is such a brief piece, she thinks, gingerly picking up the sheet music after closing the lute safely in its case.
The truth is, despite the sadness of the occasion, and her own concerns about her heatlh, Kylah feels good, and proud that she agreed to participate despite her desire to hide. It is proper to give honor to a comrade in arms, and if the music can allow people to show their grief however they see fit or reflect on their memories, Kylah knows she, Brooks and Anand will have done their job.
Nervous, but pleasantly so, Kylah hurries to get washed and restyle her hair before the service. The Elasian mourning rituals demand hair that is loose, without adornment; none of the usual elaborate braiding or jewels used for ceremonies or public events.
Make-up is allowed--only family members in mourning are prohibited from such vanities during a service--and so Kylah makes the most of what she can. Her eyes are still glassy and reddish, so she brightens the lids with light sliver powder, almost invisible except for the shimmer when she turns near a light source, and darkens/lengthens her eyelashes as well. Pale cheeks get a slight dusting of color, nothing garish, just to give the impression that there is blood beneath them instead of the ghostly white pallor she has had for the past few weeks. Finally, her lips are naturally a pinkish-red but she darkens them to a more muted, maroon shade.
Then she is off, hurrying to the service while praying that their performance will please Lt. Thalen, the Captain, and all Fujishiro's friends.
Last edited by choie; 24 Mar 2016 at 07:51 PM.
Graham debates skipping the funeral in order to actually write the letter to his daughter he started--or at least thought about starting--while in Sickbay.
But this is kind of a big deal, he thinks. Especially for Collins, who was in command of the mission... No cause to be an asshole and not show up.
As he limps to the funeral, he's happy about Nia's ebullience singing his praises earlier. At the same time, as they seem to have gotten closer, in a way that's been natural and comfortable, it brings him closer and closer to a stark reality:
I've failed every woman I've ever loved...
And the final unsaid word: "Nia."
You need to know that...
But not today, for god's sake, Booker.
He talks himself down just as he finds a seat--in the back, since he didn't know the deceased at all--and Nia enters the room.
He waves, trying to attract her attention.
When Nia notices Booker's unobtrusive wave, which makes her eyes light up with more pleasure than one should have at a somber occasion, she turns enough so that she belatedly notices Collins standing at the chapel door. I must have passed her right by, she thinks in concern. Moving over to Collins, Nia nods at the younger officer, empathizing with what she must be going through. "Jeremi," she says quietly. "How are you doing?"
Roble and Rangin leave the Yorktown's Bridge together. The Captain departed with Dr. Villa about half an hour ago, leaving Lt. Bennett in command.
The Ship's Auditorium is filling up. Everyone looks somber; a few are crying. A thin, golden Celtic cross, one of several dozen religious symbols reflecting the diversity of religious faiths among the crew and kept in storage for such occasions, is centered on the bulkhead above the podium.
Cooper is approaching through the crowd in the corridor as Onn speaks to Collins.
"A little numb, thanks," Collins nods to Onn "Everyone expects me to speak, and I haven't a clue what to say. Help?" she asks the older woman quietly.
Out the corner of her eye she sees Cooper approaching and holds her hand out to him without moving her current focus from the Sidonian in front of her.
Cooper steps up and takes her hand. He smiles at Onn. "Lieutenant," he says with a small, polite nod.
"Ensign," Nia replies smoothly before returning to Collins. "I know this is hard. Just remember, the reason you're expected to speak--and I doubt that expectation is universal, but I understand if you've been asked--is that you led her last mission. So if you can, focus on that. What do you remember about her performance? What did she do? I don't remember the landing party being very big, so she must have stood out to some degree. What about the previous mission the two of you shared, I think it was the first one since both of you joined the Yorktown?"
Nia lifts a shoulder in a sort of sympathetic shrug. "Do your best, keep it brief, and let her friends give the longer speeches. Unfortunately this is a duty that all mission leaders dread, but most can't avoid. I'm genuinely sorry you have to handle this so soon. Actually... you might want to talk to Captain Singh. She'll be receptive and helpful, I'm sure of that. She's had to give far too many of these eulogies herself, I'd imagine. By which I mean, at least one."
With a light pat on Collins's elbow, Nia adds that she hopes this was helpful, though probably it wasn't. Then she excuses herself to join Booker, offering a word or two to anyone she knows on the way.
"I'm glad you came," she murmurs, sitting beside him and surreptitiously touching his hand under the guise of adjusting her skirt. "I know you didn't have to, considering your recovery and the fact you didn't know her. But being together means something. I'd like to think others'd do the same for me when it's my turn."
After making sure that there are three chairs and music stands placed near the raised platform, Kylah sits beside Anand and Brooks. She murmurs to the others that the preparations have been taken care of, and once it is time, each can easily move their chair and stand into place.
Despite the grim occasion, she cannot help but feel honored to take part, and even a new sense of companionship with the other musicians. She has forgotten what a pleasure it is to perform as one of a group.
Nagging in the back of her mind is the thought that she should be able to sense the crowd seated throughout the auditorium. While glad she does not feel overwhelmed by their mixed emotions, she is still disconcerted by the emptiness.
Kylah takes a quick look at the crew gathered thus far. She spies Mr. Graham and Lt. Onn--why are they so often together, lately?--and then sees Collins over by the door with Ens. Cooper. They have never seen me play, she thinks suddenly, and a little ripple of pride runs through her.
It seems petty, considering the circumstances, but she is very glad to have the opportunity to do something well, possibly even impress some of the crew. After being nothing but an anchor and a damsel in distress, Kylah is very grateful for the chance to display some skill and, more important, perform a service for a fallen comrade. Collins and Graham will probably be surprised that she can actually do something without needing assistance.
And Velir... She glances back but does not see him. Of course, he could be blocked by the other crew members--he is not very tall, and Kylah herself cannot see over some of the crew's heads. Kylah turns back to look at the podium, disappointed but knowing he will be here. His last words to her still seem odd. He said he saw her recitals, but that must be a falsehood, or he would have mentioned it before. Why make such an empty platitude? That is not like him.
She pushes the thoughts away and looks down to make sure her lute case is safely resting against the seat. Mentally she plays the piece, her fingers unconsciously going through the motions by pressing down on her knees. It will be a beautiful addition to the ceremony, she vows.
"I'm glad you're here," Collins tells Cooper. "Let's go sit." She searches the chapel for two adjacent seats near the back, and when she sees them she'll head there, pulling Cooper along, since she has yet to let go of his hand. They'll expect me to say something. All I can do is say she was brave. Maybe if I sit quietly, they'll skip over me.
"Hey, I'm supposed to be the morbid one," Graham says, giving Nia a little nudge with his elbow.
"I figured I ought to show the flag for Collins." he adds. "I get the sense the whole shitsh--ah, that mission--really shook her up."
The Auditorium is now almost full. Rangin finds a seat inside; Roble remains in the corridor.
Collins notices the Captain, Chief Engineer and other senior staff sitting together in the front row.
The First Officer steps up to the podium and looks out over the crowd. Onn overhears someone whisper, "Fujishiro was a Christian, and so is Vargas - a Catholic, I think. The Captain isn't. Even though they weren't of the same denomination, it's his prerogative under Starfleet regs to lead the service."
"Ship's company, atten-shun!" Vargas says crisply. Everyone stands. Eight Science personnel acting as pallbearers, including Roble, carry in a dark, glossy, rounded photon torpedo casing draped in the dark-blue Federation flag. They carefully set it down on a low platform directly in front of the podium, and step back as one.
Vargas says, "Please be seated." Everyone does, including the pallbearers. "We meet today to pay our last respects to a capable and respected crewmate, Lt. JG Fujishiro Tomoe Iota, Assistant Science Officer and Physics Officer, fallen in the line of duty. She was a fine officer, and died having given the last full measure of devotion to the Federation, to Starfleet, and to this ship. As she requested, the funeral service is drawn from the prayerbook of the Reformed Christian Church of Asia. Mr. Park."
He steps aside, and Lt. JG Geoffrey Park comes to the podium. The young Korean botanist says, “Let us pray. We brought nothing into this universe, and it is certain we carry nothing out of it but our souls. The Lord giveth life, and the Lord taketh it away; blessed be the Name of the Lord our God, Creator of the Universe. Amen.”
"Amen," say many in the crowd, having bowed their heads.
Reflexively, Collins crosses herself. She wasn't raised very religiously, but her family did attend mass on Christmas and Easter. The movement of her right hand across her face and sternum is automatic.
Rangin remains quietly in the middle of the congregation, only a few odd looks passing his way as most concentrate on the funeral in front of them. He can see Kylah and the other musicians off to one side, but his nod to her probably escapes her notice, and she probably wouldn't recognise him anyway.
It feels strange wearing his nhorel, looking through the mask at this people around, almost cutting himself off from them even though he could see and hear clearly what is going on. He shouldn't, perhaps even be wearing it, Fujishiro was only a colleague for a short time. But after the escape from Sakath and the differing paths that had followed, he still considers some responsibility as to what happened. This is the final way to pay his respects to her, something he wouldn't normally do unless it is for certain religious ceremonies...but for him, this counts.
He hears the words from Lt. JG Park, and from his studies at the Academy recognises some of the words as Earth religion rather than the mild profanity that often escaped lips in times of stress or surprise. Under his own mask, and silently from the crowd, he begins his own recitation helped by the fact that no-one will be able to notice.
Rangin didn't often practice religion, nor did most Coridanites, mainly to some of the minor deities to ensure their dealings were fruitful. But the major gods were still respected in times of birth, marriage and death. And for a race that had so few people, when there should have been many, Death is the reluctant Herald, forced to take those worn out by life and seeing that fewer and fewer remain. Fujishiro may be guided by her own, but the Herald may guide her coming to the place beyond.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Graham forces himself not to shift impatiently while all the religious mumbo-jumbo goes on.
His eyes shift toward Nia, wondering if she is going to "participate" in the...whatever the recitations and gestures are.
Of course why would she follow an Earth-origin religion, if she does at all, you idiot?
It's not that he begrudges anybody the right to their believes...
...but what a fucking waste of time.
Park yields the podium to Engineering Ens. James "Jim" Delaney, who says, "I came aboard the Yorktown at the same time as Iota. She was a good friend and a great officer. One of our common bonds was our love of the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. This was a favorite passage of hers from The Return of the King, and appropriate to the occasion, I think:
'...Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.'"
By the end Delaney is clearly moved. He returns to his seat.
Engineering Lt. JG Nilo Coimbra then rises and leads the 18-strong Lyceum Chorus in the old hymn "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," also known as the Navy Hymn. (There are paper programs on every seat with the words for those who also wish to sing). The hymn includes, at the end, the customary 1948 Heinlein verse:
"Almighty ruler of the all
Whose power extends to great and small,
Who guides the stars with steadfast law,
Whose least creation fills with awe -
O grant Thy mercy and Thy grace
To those who venture into space...."
Security Crewman Alexandra Harper next takes the podium. She says, "A reading from the 23rd Psalm. ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.’ Amen.”
Kylah sees that she and her trio are up next.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eterna...Strong_to_Save
The prayers and music send Nia into a reflective place, which is inevitable during a funeral for a shipmate--or anyone, for that matter--and she sits, her head slightly tilted, watching Vargas, Delaney and the others pay respect to Fujishiro.
It strikes her, when Delaney speaks, that there is very little personal about the young woman. Perhaps not surprising; she was pretty new to the ship, and apparently there are no classmates from the Academy who knew her well. While the readings and prayers and poetry and music are nice, it isn't what Nia would want for someone she cares about, much less herself.
She'd want to be remembered as she was, alive, rather than as a source for others to offer up prayers for. Let A.J. talk about her multitudinous and eclectic choice of bed-mates. Have the Engineering guys reminisce about what a pain-in-the-ass she was when using one of the shuttles as a test bed for some new invention. She'd be happy--in fact, kinda proud--to think of Vargas bitching about that prank that nearly got her thrown off the ship.
Nia almost looks at Booker when she considers what, if anything, he would say about her. Hopefully there'll be time to give him some good material, she thinks, barely suppressing a mordant smile.
The prayers are meaningful because they seem to have mattered to Fujishiro. Nia doesn't bother praying to her tribe's deities, since first, she's not entirely sold on their existence--but hedges her bets and allows for the possibility, because why not?--and second, if Sid'Os and Seht'Dar and the rest exist, they don't trouble themselves with the lives of those not on Sidonia.
Sidonians have no universe-creation tale; Sid'Os and her begotten children are strictly local. It would be like appealing to Captain Singh to assist in some matter on a non-Federation ship hundreds of light years away.
So she just listens and mulls over the fragility of life--and the importance of bonding with others, to make this fragile life all the sweeter.
Last edited by SidonianGal; 27 Mar 2016 at 01:50 AM.
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