Starfleet Flight Training Platform, Outreach
Vulcan Orbit
Marisa concentrated on relaxing the muscles in her feet. She'd already been over those twice already and coming back around again she found she'd tensed up a bit while distracted elsewhere. It was proving to be a little frustrating. Right up front she'd found the difficult part was overcoming the impulse to force the muscles of her body to relax instead of just letting them. But everything in her insisted on controlling it. Letting go just really wasn't her thing.
"What change have you noted overall to this point?" Spetok asked. Though her eyes were closed, Marisa knew he was seated across her, in an identical position.
"Well…" She said after a moment. "I guess I'm a little more relaxed. I don't know how I'm supposed to get all my muscles loose at the same time, though."
"This will come in time, with practice." He assured. "Have you noted a change in aggression during this time?"
Marisa frowned at that. She wasn't aggressive, dammit.
"Yeah, I guess." She said. "But that's just from sitting around relaxing. I don't see how this is such a big deal with you guys."
"There is significantly more to the way of Surak than this." Spetok explained. "This is simply the first page in the book you are reading. The first step on a journey you have undertaken. In time it would become only one foundation, among many."
Well, she wasn't sure she wanted to get into all that. She'd only agreed to go along with this because she was bored. It was taking them for-damned-ever to get around to her. Did the Vulcan Medical Institute forget she was even here or something?
"I can sense that you are beginning to become unsettled." Spetok intoned, calmly. "Continue breathing and relaxing, both overall and with focus upon the muscles of your feet. Clear your mind of anything else that would distract from this. Then continue on along your body until you have released."
Marisa took a deep breath and let go again. Back to those feet. Relax-a-rama. Relaxed is me. I am el sorprender Relax-o.
"So what's the point of this then?" She asked. "If it's all about relaxing, why don't you guys just take a nap or something?"
"The mind and the body are intrinsically connected." Spotek explained. "Even a state of mild tension in the muscles of the body forces communication with the mind. By removing this obstacle, we remove a significant portion of distraction from the conscious mind. Simultaneous to this, we allow the body an opportunity to expel the excess stress that has inevitably accumulated."
Marisa couldn't feel her feet anymore, which meant she had that area nailed down again. So she moved on to her legs. Where she found her damned calves had insisted on tensing up to make sure the floor was still there. Estupido legs muscles…
"So it's about stress management then." She said. She was surprised a little to find herself almost murmuring. Damn, she was getting all relaxed.
"This is an important element." Spetok agreed. "Stress is primarily a result of the body preparing to act. As I am sure is true for humans as well, this is most often the result of our mind identifying more dangers and requirements than actually exist. And in most cases assigning greater levels of threat and need than individual situations truly represent. For that, later disciplines exist to aid in training our minds to assess and respond more efficiently. For now, however, learning to reduce excess stress is the prerequisite."
By then Marisa, following along almost vaguely with the conversation, had reached her chest and shoulders. There she'd had a bit more luck. Overall, she'd almost lost touch with her whole body. She was beginning to feel kind of like a head floating around on a cloud or something.
Felt pretty good. Weird, but good.
"Well, I don't know if I'll have time to go all Vulcan, Spetok." She murmured. And yeah, she was murmuring alright. "We stay a little busy on a starship."
Of course, he did know. Spetok, she was surprised to find, was actually a ship commander. As she had intuited earlier, he'd had some family member or other in Space Central pull some strings to get him in here. So he could get a good first hand look at how Starfleet did things.
"I do not think that will be necessary." Spetok assured. "In fact, I think many of the disciplines would be counter-productive. Humans are not meant for the way of Surak. Or…perhaps it would be better to say, the way of Surak was not meant for humans. For you, I believe simple stress management, as you have said, will prove more beneficial."
"Mmhm." Marisa replied. That's about all she could muster.
"However, once you have mastered this technique, you should educate yourself on clearing the mind while in this state." He continued. "This will allow you to remain centered for longer following simple meditation. And so this will carry over into your duties and allow your mind to more accurately assess your environment."
Marisa didn't answer. She was back to her head again and that one, as Spetok had warned her, was the tough one. Relaxing your head was a real puta.
"You are doing well. Continue in this manner." Spetok advised. His voice was calm and soothing. As so Marisa floated.
For several minutes she floated, only breathing. Once or twice her mind attempted to steer her back to her body, just in case something needed to be done. But she ignored the impulse…and just floated for a little while.
For a time, all was peace...
"Ensign Marisa Roriguez, report to debarkation main office."
At first it didn't matter. That was some other Marisa Rodriguez, in some other universe. Here, she was just floaty Marisa…calm and peaceful, enjoying the…
Oh. Wait. Meirda, that did matter.
Marisa opened her eyes, taking a deep breath. She found Spetok still sitting calmly, waiting just a couple of meters away on the meditation room floor.
She sighed. "Well, that's me."
"Indeed. I assume you will soon receive orders to depart for the Medical Institute." Spetok noted.
"Yeah." She said, attempting to get up. And at first she was surprised to find her body didn't want to. It seemed to have really gotten on board with the floaty, relaxy thing. Once on her feet, she looked over at Spetok, who was still resting comfortably and unimposing on the floor.
"Spetok. Uh…thanks." She said, uncomfortably. "That was…nice. Thanks."
"I hope that you will continue, Ensign Rodriguez." Spotek observed. "I can see you have already benefited, even from this small step."
"Well, I'll try but…" She said. "Well, yeah, I will. Thanks again."
"Your thanks are not necessary. It was the logical course for me to take when confronted with your distress."
"Right. Well...I better go." Marisa nodded. "So…you know…take care."
"Certainly."
Unable to think of anything else to say, or even knowing what the heck she expected herself to do now, Marisa turned and left.
Outside in the corridor she began hiking it a bit when she realized she was strolling around casually like someone who didn't have somewhere to be double quick.
**********
NX-35 Vigilant
Jupiter Station
At the deck E port airlock, Captain T'Pril Elizabeth Tucker and Executive Officer Lieutenant Commander Henry McArthur waited at ease, side by side. Near them, to the side and a step behind, steward Williams waited to escort their guests to their quarters. In a moment the airlock would cycle and Teval, the celebrated operatic tenor, would enter with his attendants. This would be the first time the fledgling captain had greeted anyone of note aboard ship, other than maintenance crewmen from the station. This 'Teval' person wasn't anyone Henry had ever heard of, not being one to keep up with opera and such, but he was a little nervous anyway.
"So you know how to do this, right?" He asked.
T'Pril replied, flatly. "I remind you that I speak the language, Commander, and I am familiar with simple customs."
"Right." He nodded absently. "But the thing…you had to do that a lot back on Centauri, right?" He asked frowning.
She turned her head partly toward him. "Yes. I have done 'the thing' frequently."
Henry nodded again. And fidgeted.
She turned to face the airlock once more.
A short pause. "Because I understand it's expected…" He spoke quickly.
"It is a simple matter, Commander McArthur." T'Pril interrupted. "You are worrying excessively. It is merely a greeting, one that I have performed frequently. It requires little effort or skill."
Henry nodded. "Right."
A moment more.
"It's just that Admiral Billings is a big opera fan, from what I hear." He explained. "Big fan of this guy in particular. A big fan, if you hear me. And he's the one signed off on this. And the last thing you need is these folks havin' any kinda complaint so Billings can get his undies in a bunch over it."
"We need only greet our guests, refer them to the steward here and we will have completed our duty in this regard for the moment." T'Pril responded.
Henry pounced on that. "Steward, you sure everythin's squared away down there?" He said over his shoulder.
"Yes, sir." The young steward assured. "Rooms have been cleaned thoroughly, filters on all vents, luggage and belongings already delivered. We're ready, sir."
"Okay, then." Henry nodded and frowned. And fretted.
The airlock cycled and began to open. Henry shifted his stance a bit and gave T'Pril another once-over on the sly, to be sure she hadn't missed any loose hairs or had a wrinkle in evidence anywhere on her uniform. Dang it all to hell, he hated having folk come callin' on his ship anyway.
From T'Pril's perspective, the older Vulcan who entered through the airlock projected an aura of snobbery before him like a wave. It was not something she was unfamiliar with fortunately. Many of the visitors that had been received in her own home on Centauri typically displayed the same attitude. Usually those coming from Vulcan to express their disagreement with her parents for stealing away some promising young person from their clan. But when considering the garishly rich platinum embroidery on the man's very expensive robes, and his obvious exclusive preference for young females among his attendants, she couldn't help but call to mind her father's general reaction to such people. As she recalled, he had actually ejected one of them physically through the front door of their home.
Nonetheless, T'Pril offered the traditional greeting, raising her hand respectfully in salute. "Teval. Dif-tor heh smusma."
The expected response, of course would be to return the greeting, or perhaps the alternative offer of personal service. But the elder Teval barely glanced over her as she welcomed him.
"Yes." He said dismissively, in English. "Which of you is to show us to our quarters?"
Clearly introducing herself and Commander McArthur would no longer be appropriate. And she had concerns that McArthur might begin to behave in an unbecoming manner once he realized he'd just been snubbed. T'Pril quickly gestured to the waiting steward and responded in English as well.
"This is Williams, you steward." She said. "He will escort you to your quarters, where your belongings await you. If you have any…"
"Let us go." Teval said, swishing his robes slightly with one hand while he approached the steward. To indicate he was prepared to go now.
Williams, being experienced enough to recognize the situation, moved quickly and had the group led down the hall in short order. But not quickly enough that T'Pril didn't clearly hear one of the young women murmur to another, "Fnish-tor nash-kosu spo'komihn." Certainly it was said loudly enough that it was obvious she had been expected to overhear, even without the telling glance in her direction.
As they disappeared down the hall, McArthur finally frowned. "The hell? You sure you did it right?"
"I did." T'Pril replied placidly. "As I have said, it is a simple greeting and not of such import as you seem to believe. It would appear Teval and his attendants are merely eager to retire to quarters."
Henry seemed to accept that, though he was still visibly confused.
"Well, okay then." He shrugged. "And what'd that girl say anyhow?"
"Nothing of importance." T'Pril replied. "But it would seem we have completed our duty here. We will return to the bridge."
As they made their way to the forward turbo lift, T'Pril considered that it was indeed unimportant. Of no matter at all. Yet she was concerned that informing McArthur the young woman had remarked that she 'smelled like a human' would not be taken well at all. Especially after their conversation the prior evening. He would be sure to realize the full insult that had been intended.
**********
Outreach Shuttle Two
Vulcan Interface
"Alright, Ensign. Coming up on reentry, there will be some chop."
The shuttle had begun shaking slightly before the pilot up front could finish the sentence. Marisa had been through a few reentries so the experience didn't faze her at all, though she figured the pilot, a young Ensign Wilkins, must have had a few people become anxious right about then. After only a moment the trembling had already subsided as the shuttle entered fully into atmosphere and started orienting toward it's destination.
"So, have you ever been to Vulcan?" He asked.
"No, I haven't." She replied, gazing over his shoulder out the forward window. "I've been around quite a lot but didn't actually touch ground too many places."
"Oh, a boomer?" The pilot asked, grinning.
Marisa grinned back. "No, though the ship I flew was all boomer. I came up from Mexico when I was still pretty young. Ended up bouncing to Starfleet."
Wilkins nodded. "We get a lot of those. People who come up out of a gravity well, get a taste of space, find they like it and jump at the 'fleet when the offer comes around."
"So you're a boomer, then." Marisa said. It was pretty obvious, but boomers didn't join too often. "How did you end up in Starfleet?"
"Family went broke, so I had to get a real job." He said, smiling.
Marisa grinned back at that, though she knew it was meant to hide what must have been a very painful time. 'Going broke' for a family of boomers usually meant losing the ship and practically everything that held them together as a family.
"Okay, so." The pilot announced. "First time on Vulcan. Three rules that will keep you out of a lot of trouble. Rule one, don't touch anybody. Not ever. Unless you have to grab someone to keep them from falling off a cliff. And even then you let go quickly and pretend it didn't happen. Rule two, don't smile. Don't show any facial expression at all, if you can help it. Down there grinning or frowning is the equivalent of cursing out loud. Rule three, don't flail your arms around or make big expressive gestures. That's an emotional display. There are Vulcans that have been thrown in jail for that kind of behavior. When in doubt, tuck your hands behind your back or in your pockets. Follow those rules and you're sure to be treated with only mild contempt. And trust me, the way they'll treat you otherwise will have you getting emotionally expressive. To the point that you'll end up in jail yourself by the end of the first day. Now, of course, you've probably figured all that out already if you've been on the Outreach for more than a few hours."
"Yeah, I kinda did." Marisa smirked.
Wilkins chuckled. "Right. But don't let me scare you. Once you get the hang of it you'll find they aren't all bad. Some of the best people I've ever known are Vulcan. I might even be tempted to call one or two of them my friends, if I didn't think they'd be insulted."
Marisa laughed a little at that. "My captain's half Vulcan and our Doctor's full blooded. And I've met a few besides."
"Oh, hey!" The pilot exclaimed. "You're off the Vigilant then! T'Pril Tucker's your captain, right?"
"Uh, yeah. That's right." Marisa replied, suddenly uncomfortable. Have we've gotten around that much already?
"Yeah, we've been hearing about that for weeks." Wilkins nodded, curious now. "First Human-Vulcan hybrid ever, I think, right? Famous parents. She's practically a celebrity, sort of. Ensign and already has a command, is that right?"
"No, she made JG." Marisa corrected. But let's hope you don't ask questions about that one.
"Oh, okay." He nodded. "Hadn't heard that. That's still something, though. I'm pretty sure she's the first JG to ever hold command."
Marisa merely nodded. But after a moment she just had to ask.
"You don't seem too upset about that. Most people are." She said.
"Well, I don't serve on the Vigilant, so it hardly matters to me." Wilkins shrugged. "Is she a good captain?"
Marisa had to think about it for second or two. She hadn't ever actually considered it.
"She got us out of Wid-…well, a pretty bad situation." She said at last. "So, yeah. So far she seems to be."
"There you go. It's your opinion that matters." Wilkins noted.
Marisa contemplated that for a bit.
"But if that's right then I should probably warn you." Wilkins said suddenly. "You're probably going to get a mix of reactions to her down there. From what I gather the locals either think she's Surak's favorite granddaughter or some kind of horrible mutant abomination. Usually the later and there doesn't seem to be a lot of gray area about it either. That probably won't reflect on you directly though, that wouldn't be logical. But they won't have any problem with expressing their opinion, if you give them half a reason to. So I wouldn't if I were you."
Marisa nodded. Yeah, probably better not to have that discussion with anyone down there. She was pretty sure she'd have an emotional display to lay one someone over that point, if it came right down to it.
"So, okay. We've got about twenty minutes of flight time here and we're coming in close enough to make out some of the more interesting landmarks. I've made this run about a million times so let me show you around a bit. We have to come in along here to avoid the Forge to the north there. There's a natural dampening field over that whole area. Fly just a little too close to the ground over that way and you'll find yourself taking your own personal kahns-wan trying to get out alive. Which you probably won't."
"This very intimidating looking mountain here…that's the one and only Mount Seleya. If you have a camera, take a picture. It's one of the premiere landmarks in the known universe. The Vulcan Medical Institute is in Shir Kahr, so we'll get a glimpse of Mount Kholinar way off to the south as we pass by in a little while. But up ahead here, that wide flat area is the Shival Flats. Very interesting history…"
As Marisa listened to the young pilot drone on she suddenly remembered what she was doing here. She was on her way to an alien hospital, to be treated for a disease that had been threatening to kill her for over four years now. To be treated by aliens she barely understood and didn't really care for all that much. And no assurance the treatment itself wouldn't kill her anyway.
And all of a sudden, the very enthusiastic young pilot, who'd been such a welcome distraction up to that point, wasn't nearly distracting enough.
**********
NX-35 Vigilant
Jupiter Station
0834, Alpha Shift, Captain Tucker manned the chair on the bridge, reviewing the ready reports most other captains would consider an irritating formality. With her bridge crew on deck and orders finally received she observed that the Vigilant was properly prepared to deploy. Other than Ensign Rodriguez the only other exception to her standard Alpha shift bridge crew was Commander McArthur, who'd chosen to man the engineering station himself. T'Pril assumed Ensign Foster must have managed to irritate her XO, resulting in his being relocated to main engineering as punishment.
"Look like they're stirring the tanks, captain." McArthur noted. "Estimate 2 minutes and we'll be topped off, ready to roll."
"Very well. Relay when engineering reports ready." T'Pril replied.
Interestingly, she noted McArthur attracted the attention of the Communications Officer at that point. He nodded sharply to her and Summers set about some task at her station with an intriguing measure of interest.
Turning to the comm officer herself then, she ordered. "Summers, request clearance for departure once fuel status is confirmed. Then assess and report traffic."
"Yes, captain." Summers replied, but her attention remained solidly on her console.
The Vigilant, since it's arrival, had caused something of a stir. As the Aurora was parked off the station, bumped from prime position in deference to Vigilant's battle damage, the crew of that vessel was already slightly miffed with them. Once word had gotten around through the grapevine concerning some of the action Vigilant had been involved in, that only made the situation worse.
While details of the events that had taken place at Widow's Well had been stepped on pretty hard by Command, Vigilant's crew status certainly hadn't escaped anyone's notice. The ship had already suffered significant casualties months previously and now had several top command staff KIA yet again. And that a ship full of Ensigns and Junior Grades had taken on and destroyed a Romulan Bird of Prey…in the condition that it had been in at the time…that just hadn't sat well with many of their peers. The crew had suffered considerable derision and provocation over the last few days from the officers of the Aurora and even from the station crew itself.
The entire situation had led to some fairly bad blood all around, with the Vigilant's crew encouraged…ordered by their captain even…to just bow their heads and take it. At least for now. There was enough trouble stirred up all around as it were. But certain members of the Vigilant's command staff had taken it upon themselves to give the Aurora, Jupiter Station and perhaps even Starfleet itself the collective finger on their departure. Hence, 'Project Bird' and it's perfectly intentional double meaning.
After a minute running the hack Ensign West had devised through the station's system, Summers had four of Jupiter Station's repair drones online and hard at work, laying down 'Project Bird's' pigmented silicon adhesions on the outer hull. Two working together on each side of the ship, they would have their task completed in about one minute. Just enough time for the drones to wrap it up, jet away from the ship and leave Vigilant ready to go when they got the signal. It had somewhere along the way become tradition for a particular external shot of departing vessels to be displayed when their departure was announced. And so all over the station and, if tradition were observed, aboard the Aurora as well, their contribution to Vigilant's external hull designation would be proudly displayed for all to see when they broke dock. And very probably on several intra-system news feeds, if their departure happened to get a mention.
A clearly visible, pale green Bird of Prey now graced the Vigilant's saucer section, copied on both port and starboard rear hull, with a crimson red hash mark slashed through. With plenty of room to one side for more of the same to be added at a later date, of course. Absolutely, positively in blatant, glaring violation of Starfleet regulations. But they'd be long gone before anyone could make a fuss about it.
The command crew responsible had ensured it would also be routed to Vigilant's internal displays for her crew to see and enjoy, of course. With the exception of the bridge main view screen itself. No one had been brave enough to suggest Captain Tucker be brought into the loop until absolutely unavoidable.
"Station reports detached, confirmed." McArthur reported. "All systems green, ready for launch."
"Traffic clear, we have vector." Summers announced.
"Very well." T'Pril nodded. "Helm, .1 impulse on departure. Report when clear."
"Aye, captain." Ensign Stone acknowledged. ".1 impulse ahead."
After a moment they'd cleared the station, with the crew stationed there and aboard the Aurora already expressing outrage at what was gliding by across their screens.
"Vigilant clear, Captain." Stone reported.
"Set course for Vulcan, warp four."
"Course laid in...we're underway." Stone replied. "Warp four, steady."