Somewhere Else

Posted on Wed Oct 20th, 2010 @ 2:29pm by

Mission: Ten Little Diplomats
Location: Ret'ska
Timeline: After 'Bright Eyes, Strong Hearts'

Davik walked out of the Ops pit, up the stairs and back into the turbolift. The spring in his step hadn't diminished an inch, and if anything in the meeting with the captain had upset him, he didn't show it. The Trill strolled through the corridors of the promenade, looking for the world as if he were lost beyond any hope, duffel bag still slung over his shoulders. He continued walking around aimlessly for a good half an hour. It was on purpose in a way, simply seeing where he would end up if he walked about without thinking on it. He finally ended up near a sectioned off area that lead into a wide room with a counter inside of it, bowls of fresh fruit and what appeared to be an area that had a dirt floor in it with trees sprouting up mildly toward the ceiling. Davik, intrigued, inched closer to the area before pushing his way inside.

"What is this place?" he wondered to himself as he set his duffel down on the ground and peered forward to spy on a few plants at his feet.

"Off!" a deep, solemn voice told Davik. An old Vulcan man came out from behind the galley counter and pointed at Davik's shoes, crossing his arms sternly. Davik arched his eyebrows.

"My shoes?" he asked, bending down to untie his boots. "How come? What is this place?" he asked again, sliding his feet out of them and stretching his toes, placing them off to the side near his duffel bag. He stood up and stretched, giving a sighing yawn as he peered around eagerly.

"It is my home," the Vulcan explained simply. "Ret'ska. Do you want something to eat? I am fixing mid-meal." Without waiting for an answer, the man turned on his own equally bare feet and slid behind the counter to attend to some previously abandoned vegetable roots.

"Your home..." Davik's confusion didn't seem to be getting any more placated, but he walked forward and leaned over the counter. "That smells fantastic, what is it? And what's retskya?"

"You are full of questions," the man replied airily as he chopped a white root into thin, fine chopped bits. "Ret'ska," he repeated, "is the word of my people to mean 'space-aside'. I am creating ven'oara. You are quite obviously new," he observed knowingly.

Davik looked down at his uniform.

"Oh, yeah. I am new. And I guess I do have a lot of questions! I've never really seen a Vulcan like you before. What's your name?" he asked, looking up and shooting him a smile.

"I am Seion." The Vulcan finished chopping with a flourish and began separating the different components into small metallic bowls. Seion, as he was called, gestured vaguely to the area behind Davik. "Feel free to look around," he said diplomatically. "I will call you when I am done."

Davik felt the mood in the air, an almost strange, otherworldly peace that seemed to cling to the molecules around him. He gave a nod and walked at a more leisurely pace than normal over to the giant tree, and sat under it, leaning back to observe the fluorescent lighting of the ceiling. His feet dug in the dirt, and he pulled up a strange, squash-like vegetable out of the soil. It had been a long time since he'd seen anything like this, though he would expect a Vulcan to logically use a replicator. Sometimes people took for granted such simple things. Working with your hands, making your own meals. He wanted to try and learn, though he wasn't very skilled at it. He must've spent twenty minutes pondering to himself, before Seion cut through his daydreaming.

"Mr. Tieran," the Vulcan said sharply, standing over him with his hands on his hips.

Davik snapped his head up, wrenched out of his reflective reverie. "How did you know my name?" he asked, pulling himself up to his feet with a slight groan. "Hmph, I'm getting old. Well, I'm already old." He waved vaguely.

"You were due to arrive with the newest transport. It is my job to know these things." With that enigmatic response, Seion walked back over to the counter and produced a bowl of a rather alien looking salad, lightly spiced with an unknown material. He set it out. "Stay as long as you like," he bid the security officer before he disappeared behind the archway into the main kitchen area.

Davik stared down at the bowl and picked up the spoon next to it, frowning to himself. It was a most unusual encounter... But, it was centering in a way. He munched on the salad as he thought to himself.


[OFF]:

Lieutenant j.g Davik Tieran
Chief Security Officer,
Starbase 332

Seion
Morale Officer/Junior Counselor,
Starbase 332