[A1] LtCmdr Tristam Core, "Culture shock." (Part 2)

[Deliera Jay]

((Guest quarters, Astrofori One))

::A trip to medical had Yanata's symptoms of space sickness sorted, she'd retired to her quarters demanding time to settle and some privacy - given her overbearing nature, Tristam bid her a good night and instead returned to his own quarters for a good nights rest, looking forward to giving his sister-in-baso the tour of the station.

::When she answered the door to her guest quarters, Tristam found her cross-legged on the floor, feet bare, eyes concentrated purely on the clay-like substance currently at her hands.

::Basotile.

::He hadn't seen another Rodulan work with basotile since . . . well, since forever. Though basotile was grand in its expression, his family often worked with it in seclusion. Yanata was the only one of the household whom would openly craft. At first it was a quality of hers that he constantly questioned, but now it was something he took comfort in. It felt as though a large weight had been lifted from his shoulders.::

Core: I didn't mean to disturb you.

Yanata: I am almost done. I will be with you in a minute.

::Yanata wasn't using tools to mold the clay, instead shaping it with her hands. So far, it was simply a cube, patterns traced within it by her smallest finger. She was currently digging out clay from the top.

::Tristam set himself down at the table, staring at his sister-in-baso in a way Gamighan would have likely called 'rude', but one she was not adverse to. When she finally completed the small sculpture, it had taken form of a strange cup. She removed her hands, leaving the basotile on the table as she got up to wash them, toes stretching as she cleaned the remaining craftments from her fingernails.::

Yanata: I am afraid I won't have time for a tour today. My meeting for the trade agreements has been rescheduled for two hours from now.

Core: Did they tell you why?

Yanata: Yes, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Something about some random Dennermé conflict. That is how you say it, yes?

Core: Yes. Dennermé. And they’re not exactly known for their subtlety.

Yanata: You have heard of them?

Core: Spoken to a few of them, actually. You’d like them - they’re very . . . critical.

Yanata: Sounds about right, given the Cardassian’s attitude when I asked. You are speaking two dialects, by the way - it’s getting irritating watching your mouth slug over Krzexxi. Choose one or the other.

Core: Sorry.

::Krzexxi often used a precise words, children taught away from using contractions as one of the first three words of a sentence in the Western Gate. Laziness was frowned upon when speaking, and given that Tristam had resorted to using three different languages when he’d had problems talking, he hadn’t broken out of it easily. It was a bad habit.::

Yanata: Do not apologise, just don’t do it. Why are you even in the first place?

Core: It’s a long story. No one speaks Rodulan dialects on Invicta because of the universal translator, so no one has noticed.

Yanata: Consider me surprised Taywor hasn’t pulled you up on it.

Core: We’ve been a bit busy focussing on my actual health.

Yanata: Hmm. I suppose the fact that you *can* talk is a blessing.

::She nodded to herself, pulling a mug off the bench and placing it in front of Tristam.::

Yanata: I come baring gifts.

Core: You didn’t have to-

Yanata: Hush. It was a requirement set by your father.

::And just as quickly as she had sat down, she was up and off again, headed to the couch to pick up a crate, heaving it up and dumping it onto the table in front of him. Tristam stood from the table, Yanata unlocking the mechanism.::

Yanata: These are personal effects Gamighan wanted you to have. ::She pointed to each individually.:: Supply of proper basotile, instead of just the clay import-

Core: What’s the matter with my clay stuff?

Yanata: I am just the messenger, but he said to tell you that clay likely isn’t giving you the workout you need. And since Starfleet doesn’t have a telepathic psychophysiotherapist . . .

::She simply shrugged. Tristam was trying to work out if “psychophysiotherapist” was even a word or if Yanata was just trying to paraphrase Gamighan’s argument somehow.::

Yanata: It may take more time out of your day, but it’ll be worth it in the long wrong. Moving on, there is a couple of blankets, as well as a new copy of the Ozara Sect of Dikken - Taywor thought you might appreciate that. And, of course, an eye of the Artist . . .

::Gingerly, as though she thought she was going to drop and break it, she handed Tristam a chain and pendant. An Eye of the Artist was essentially just a good luck charm, one associated with the belief that the Artist was watching over all, a stainless steel locket, inside holding materials associated with Dikken. The “eye” was the front of the locket, a patterned circle revealing parts of the glow-in-the-dark blue held in a glass container within.

::Because he’d left Rodul, because he was out of the gaze of the Artist, it had felt necessary to keep one with him. It was one of the few connections to home he’d had during his time in Starfleet. He’d lost his original on the Pioneer, having gone missing when they’d rounded up his personal effects to send back to him while he was recovering from the accident (he hadn’t worn it on duty for reason of protocol), and at the time, he was so wound up in losing what might as well have been a limb, that he hadn’t had the capacity for a crisis of faith. It only hit him when he was half-way through his tenure on Seventeen, but he’d been so lucky in his recovery and everything after that, he hadn’t believed it a loss worthy to dwell over.::

Core: Been a while since I’ve seen one of these.

::As if it’d been his original, he pulled it over his head, the pendant settling against his chest as if it hadn’t been years since he’d last had one on. Yanata was trying to hide a smile, pulling the crate off the table and out of the way.::

Yanata: It’s not all I bring.

::She moved off as Tristam continued examining the eye around his neck, heaving up a much larger crate and all but dumping it in the place the other had been.::

::One of the problems he’d had whilst being away from home was the constant over-stimulation of flavours. Eating non-replicated meals had been a nightmare, and even then, he’d had to endure the use of nutrient pastes for years on end (the Medical Starbase he’d been a resident of for that brief tenure had many a creative solution to this problem) before he finally got around to programming meals or altering them. To this day, he couldn’t prepare a proper meal for Roshanara without instruction to make it more flavoursome and she couldn’t prepare anything for him lest she accidentally burn his tastebuds off. It was a never ending problem, his Attraxan tongue being too sensitive for it’s own good. He was often stuck with eating fish and unseasoned vegetables, soups or stews, customized replicator pastes (essentially what he’d been living on since boarding the Invicta due to it being a quick meal and lack of time to program anything else), or the worst of the bunch, nutrient and protein shakes, but even then, there was the occasional problem.

::But here he was, peering into this ridiculously large crate that Yanata had somehow managed to get aboard a Cardassian passenger transport with likely few questions asked because it was Yanata Venxi doing it and you better have a damn good reason to not let her do it thank you. All he saw were baking ingredients, fresh food, syrups and more.

::It wasn’t even the only crate. She was back over at the couch moving another one towards him.::

Core: How did- what- *why*!?

Yanata: Taywor said you were complaining endlessly.

::Where was he two years ago!?::

Core: The Menthar Corridor doesn’t exactly accommodate for Rodulans far away from home.

Yanata: I am painfully aware of this. I have been here one day and already I despise everything I smell. You have been living away from home for *years* - I don’t know how you stand it.

Core: You get used to it.

Yanata: Well, regardless to what you’ve done to work through the fifth sense pain, here is a temporary solution. This is all fixes for tastes. It is not much in the scope of things, but essence of ytic, strom and selt, extract of det, esir and regayo; I figured you could combine those as much as you like and change things up a bit. Herbs and spices as well. Uh . . . ::she held up a cetbe fruit:: fresh produce, fruit and vegetables, obviously. I also brought some diluted vinegar since you love your fish so much. Sweeteners and syrups, so forth. Oh! I called up your personnel office and asked if these can be programmed into your replicator - they said you shouldn’t have a problem and that if you do, you should talk to operations. I did not bring any flour or thickeners or water or anything of the like but I assume you can find substitutes?

Core: I’m sure I’ll find something.

Yanata: Oh good, because Gamighan was concerned that I should have brought five crates worth.

Core: I don’t think you’d have gotten away with that. And I thought you were in a hurry? How’d you manage to find time to call Starfleet yet not call *me*?

Yanata: I had two days to prepare. Completely last minute - this on top of all the reporting I had to finish up, you’re lucky I managed to pull anything together at all.

::Yanata was nothing if not efficient. Tristam couldn’t help but glance back at the crates. They’d be his first legitimately Rodulan meal in *years*. He cracked a smile, huffing a laugh, before finally pulling Yanata into a hug.

::He was hugging his sister-in-baso. He hadn’t hugged her in years, hadn’t heard her voice in person for just as long. But here she was, shoulder warm against his chin. Not only that, but she’d showed up on his doorstep and brought his *culture* back.::

::He had to take a shaky breath to stop tears from forming.::

Yanata: Tristam, are you alright?

::He only held her tighter.::

Core: You have no idea how much I missed you.

Tbc . . .

LtCmdr Tristam Core

First Officer

USS Invicta

C238803SB0

I am not a sheep, ser.