[JP] Second Secretary Aitas & Jakarn - Silver Tongue

[Aitas]

((Soundtrack))

((Terminal A, Amity Outpost))

It was more a relief than Aitas had expected to have her family there. Given everything that had happened with Amity of late, the whole situation felt a little more perilous than it had been when she’d first been assigned.

The gap between that and arrival had been rather large, after all.

But they were there, and despite how long it had been since they’d seen each other they hadn’t spent too much time on the greetings. It wasn’t her family she’d been most worried about as of late, and they knew it.

The trouble with having so many telepaths about, perhaps.

So she looked over at Jakarn with a smile and raised one eyebrow.

Aitas: So, where do you want to visit first? And how long did it take you to figure out about the bots?

Taelon might, might have been able to keep that a secret over long-distance calls. But not under any closer circumstances. 

Jakarn smirked, expression half smile. 

Jakarn: About a day. 

Taelon, hovering at the yacht’s airlock door, flushed as his father gestured to him. Aitas could see a sliver of crimson wings and bronzed metal behind him, one of a pair of lovely bots shaped after birds. She’d seen the designs before, the combination of Eccian style with creatures more familiar to the Federation. And flashes of color as stunning as anything she’d ever seen in nature.

Jakarn: Bless the boy, but he’s not learned how to keep secrets very well.  

Aitas gave Taelon a shrug and a proper smile before looking back to Jakarn. It wasn’t as if she could have assembled the bots herself.

Aitas: Well, I wasn’t about to deprive you of the chance to figure it out. Irselis did the main bodies, of course.

Jakarn: Did she? ::His eyes lit up for a moment.:: Now that was kept mum. You all spoil me. 

That made Aitas laugh, just a little. She reached over and took his arm. 

Aitas: Someone has to. And you never did answer my first question. 

Jakarn: Mmm. The park, I think. It’s been a bit cramped the last few weeks…

The yacht was hardly small for a civilian vessel, but once its passenger list grew, its flight configuration left fewer areas to retreat to. And it certainly lacked the vaulted ceilings that helped one feel less compact. 

Aitas: Of course. There are several nice sitting areas, but it isn’t a large station. You’ll have to go over to one of the nearby colonies if you really want to stretch your legs.

It was good to have him there, solid to all her senses. Never the most easily read, but at least with her hand on his arm she could pass over the occasional discreet suggestion.

Jakarn: I expect I will, in due time. The Delta has plenty of mysteries and unanswered questions, and I intend to explore at least a few of them. 

He turned to the others, waving as he and Aitas walked off, arm in arm. Once out of earshot some of his mask dropped; his shoulders sagged, his gaze less bright. 

Jakarn: Though my age is showing. I admit my plans for the next few days involve doing very little. 

She didn’t turn her head. Just let him lean on her and watched him out of the corner of one eye.

Aitas: Good. I’d worried.

He’d known that, of course. Had always been the best one at reading her. 

Jakarn made a bit of a show of being old, then, letting his posture slump, patting her hand on his arm with a stiff hand. 

Jakarn: Aw, don’t you fuss over little old me. I’ve got some years left yet, you know. ::Quite a few more, given he wasn’t even old by El-Aurian standards just yet. A mischievous glint showed in his eye.:: Though if you want to…

She laughed, again. A few minutes in his company were far better for that than a month elsewhere. Though perhaps that ratio would shift a little as she came to know her colleagues better.

Aitas: There’s a room for you at Talaxi Palms, a collection of drinks, and a dinner reservation if you’re interested. Wouldn’t want you to think I was letting my skills slip.

Jakarn: Mmm, don’t tempt me to test you. I think we could both use a relaxed evening. ::He patted her hand.:: You can try to kill me later, if you like. 

She leaned in a little, briefly resting her head against him.

Aitas: Trying to keep Taelon from growing bored? I’d have hoped the new bots would occupy him a bit.

Jakarn: Hardly. ::Taelon getting bored was a separate issue, though Jakarn doubted it was possible.::  People have been so civilized recently, I’m worried it’s my skills that will degrade. The last person who tried was ten years ago, and that was just with a knife. 

Not that Jakarn was in a hurry to forget the look on the man’s face when his knife had met metal, not flesh. A minor inconvenience for Jakarn; not so much for his attacker.

That drew out just the hint of a smile in her expression, and more clear amusement from her touch.

Aitas: You’ll have to tell me the full story over dinner, then. But I can’t argue about the relaxation. You know how I am.

And a new position wasn’t the most amenable time for her to focus on it.

Jakarn: Show me this restaurant, then; the park will wait, I’m sure. 

Aitas:Of course. It’s called the ‘The Lighthouse’. Can take you through the Grand Mezzanine on the way. There’s a good view of the nebula.

It was still a small station, but the diplomatic focus had allowed for certain amenities.

Jakarn: Lead on, then. 

It was a quite short ride on the purple line to the Grand Mezzanine. Aitas briefly pointed out the skyscraper stretching up through the station’s center, the ring of shops above (especially the bars), and a few details of the nebula.

Light conversation, in other words. One could see Starfleet officers, diplomats, and various civilians intermixed in the crowd, though no one Aitas knew too closely.

The glass elevator that ran up to The Lighthouse itself did give both a better view of the station and a moment of relative quiet. 

Aitas: I do think you’ll like Three Stripes, also. It’s nice to have drinks that do more than tickle.

He was looking outside of the glass elevator, watching the scenery as they rose upward. 

Jakarn: I take it the bartender knows how to intoxicate a Vulcan, then? ::He was amused, a little smile on his face.:: I’d say we should bring your fathers along, but perhaps it’s not their speed. 

Jakarn’s gaze didn’t leave the scenery, wistful for a moment. Her senses could pick up the moment of melancholy; the view reminded him of something, somewhere, now long lost. He drew himself from the feeling just a moment later. 

Jakarn: The Federation certainly knows how to make their stations habitable, don’t they. 

Aitas: Better than I. I expect Berit will start with the threats about my quarters soon enough.

The elevator came to a stop and she stepped out, her hand never leaving his arm.

Jakarn: Let me guess—they’re bare, and you’ve not fully decorated or unpacked, despite being here for months? Don’t make me join him in that, my dear. 

She made a show of looking caught out. Even the apologetic smile.

Aitas: You make me sound predictable. I’ve at least unpacked the clothes.

Jakarn: Mm. Predictable…in certain ways. But then, everyone is, no matter who or what we are. For example…I am predictably interested in this bar you mentioned.

 The maître d' approached them, causing a brief lull in the conversation. Aitas had reserved one of the tables near the edge, for a better view of the station below and the nebula above.

She picked the train of thought back up once they were relatively alone again.

Aitas: Of course you are. And the owner is quite adept at getting Vulcans…at least pleasantly buzzed. I can’t say I’ve ever encountered an abundance of Vulcan bartenders.

Jakarn: Not their usual vice, no. Though I expect they’d be quite good at exact amounts…

He opened the menu, a well-made little booklet lined in synthleather and printed on fine, soft paper. A traditional human style of menu, he knew. He scanned it, dancing his fingers across the entries as he thought. 

Jakarn: Mm. Any recommendations?

Aitas: I’ve only been here the once, but the pasta looked tempting. I had an airy concoction of sauce and meat last time.

She turned to the drink menu. Terran wines weren’t her specialty, but one could hardly go on without learning a bit about them, over the years. Which in this case meant admitting her limits. 

Aitas: I would recommend letting them choose the wines.

Jakarn: Ah, yes, they do drink pairings. Lovely. 

Quite what he liked, foodwise, was something of a mystery; food was a complex thing and he’d never seemed tied down to one dish or the other. He folded the menu and set it aside, lounging deep into the plush chair. 

Jakarn: The pasta, then. And whatever wine they have—that will do. At this point, I’m just glad to stretch my legs and see outside the ship.

The waiter reappeared then, with the (expected) impeccable timing to take their order. And then they were left alone again. The Lighthouse was rather quiet at that hour, and even the Mezzanine below seemed a bit sleepy, as if they’d hit one of those quietest intersections of all the shifts.

Aitas: I was in a bit of a state by the time I arrived. I’d even started resorting to the holodeck for entertainment.

She stretched one of her own legs out at that, teasing against his ankle. Wanting just that little extra touch of connection. He returned the gesture, a gentle brush against her calf.

Jakarn: Dire indeed, to drive you there. Did any programs catch your interest?

Aitas: No. I wound up rereading a couple of your books. Got my fingerprints on all the signed copies.

Jakarn: Hah! Now you’ll have me worrying about their quality again. My agent keeps asking about the next one—no doubt they’ll assign another poor toady to come and discuss my progress. 

Aitas sent a brief sense of amusement through their touch.

Aitas: As if you’ve ever listened to them before. I’ll admit I’ve gotten a few questions about the fate of Sultra Drax, though. You’d think they’d learn that I don’t know.

Jakarn: There’s a first time for everything, I suppose. 

In truth he enjoyed the long-time tradition of dodging his agent; it was a little game they played. He’d vanish from under them, take off five minutes early so they missed the ship launch…he’d relented once, years ago, as his first agent aged towards retirement and Jakarn took pity on the poor man. 

But his current agent was new, young, and determined to keep those books on a schedule. The game was fully back on, and she was going to be very upset to find out he’d headed for the Delta Quadrant. 

Jakarn: As for Sultra…mm. Haven’t decided fully, honestly. Perhaps I’ll bring her back for one more adventure—got to give Aiden one more case before I let him fully rest. 

Aitas: ::laughing:: Only one? Or one per agent?

Jakarn: One per agent, perhaps. My new one…I haven’t quite figured her out, yet. Or worn her down; she’s very focussed on punctuality. 

Jakarn was almost directly opposed to the mere concept. Things were done when they were done; not before, and certainly not when others declared them done for him. Rushing art to meet some commercial deadline raised his hackles in a way that all but demanded he make the poor woman go prematurely grey. 

Aitas: Ah, I hope she learns, if only for her sake. I remember being asked about how long the parties would take, and— ::a shake of her head.::

That was when the waiter returned, quiet, composed, and with a bottle of wine in hand.

Jakarn gestured for him to pour a bit, then lifted the glass. He made a bit of a show of smelling it, tasting it delicately, and considering it for a long few moments. 

Jakarn: It’s excellent. We’ll have the bottle. 

That earned a polite nod, and the waiter poured Aitas a glass as well before disappearing once again into the background.

Aitas: It’s much quieter here than when I came before. I’ll admit I rather like it.

Perhaps quiet wasn’t the usual word associated with her current company.

Jakarn: Is the station usually so sedate at this hour? The station Taelon served at seemed to go at all hours. 

Aitas: Amity only has a little over two thousand residents. But we’ve hit the quiet hours as well. ::she took a sip of her wine:: I had one of the Starfleet officers comment to me that it was so much bigger than a ship here, but I do still find it rather small.

Jakarn: Two thousand…that is rather small. Intimate, even. 

He took another long sip of his wine, savoring it. Space station populations were such a variable thing; Starbase 118 had and could easily house hundreds of thousands, even millions if they’d really wanted to use the space. Amity’s two thousand could have sat in one of the Starbase’s skyscraper apartment blocks with room to spare. 

But floating in the void, two thousand was also enough for a community with all the dynamics that entailed. 

Jakarn: Are they intending to expand the station? Invite more residents? I’ve heard rumors of more colonial hopes for the nearby planets. 

Aitas: Idrustix has four colonies on it already. They’ll be moving some of the Diplomatic Corps there soon enough. There’s talk of expanding out to other planets, but ::a delicate shrug:: I expect they’ll be doing a bit more thorough surveying beforehand now. Apparently Starfleet had forgotten that not everything with a claim to a place always remains in it.

Between the Hawlat and the Hirogen, it seemed an odd area to miss. 

Jakarn huffed a little laugh. 

Jakarn: Mmm. The Delta will surprise the hell out of them, then. If even one in a hundred of the species out here has survived the Borg…

She could feel it, the twinge of that old, deep, unhealing wound. He veered from those memories quickly, finishing his wine. 

Jakarn: The area is doubtless very different than any of my memories of it. But if you encounter something—do let me know. 

She poured him a bit more of the wine with practiced ease. That wasn’t a wound she could staunch, let alone heal.

Aitas: We did get a lovely look at what they’re calling a subspace serpent. Large enough to eat a whole ship; I’d be shocked if it were something new.

While she wasn’t a scientist, she had grown up around one. And rather expected her father to be fascinated by the creatures.

Jakarn: Subspace serpents…::He sat back in his chair, idly stroking his beard.:: Hmm. Big bastards who are attracted to warp engines, by chance? I remember a report of similar creatures being encountered in the Peyröt sectors. 

Aitas’s smile was warm, open. How rarely did she get to offer him something at least a little new, when he’d seen so very much already?

Aitas: Not just big ones. Perhaps we found a nest. ::she tilted her head:: Not much bigger than your new bots, some of them.

She could still feel proud of that, even if the secret of it had been mostly ruined.

Aitas: Have you named them yet?

Jakarn: I have some ideas, but I haven’t chosen yet, no. ::He tilted his head inquisitively.:: Do you have any suggestions?

She made a show of mulling that over, leaning back, gently folding her fingers together.

Aitas: Perhaps. They do look so very much like birds. But I want to see them against your other gift first.

Jakarn: Another gift? You spoil me—and here I thought I’d figured out the plan. 

His smile was genuine and happy, though, a true shift from the grim flare of memory. 

Aitas: You did teach me never to have just one plan. 

That was when their waiter returned, holding two plates of some sort of noodle and sauce concoction that Aitas didn’t quite recognize. There were little sliced discs of something intermixed with it, that turned the pale sauce to lavender, and it smelled of a delicate balance of herbs.

Jakarn: True, true. I ought to have known. 

He eyed the food as it was placed in front of them, curious but habitually cautious. Centuries of life led to an instinct to scan it, quickly, lest something sinister—or simply disagreeable—was mixed into that lovely lavender sauce. 

It passed the test, as he’d expected, and he speared one of the little discs on the end of his fork and lifted it to the light, making a show of inspecting it before he bit into it, savoring the taste. 

Jakarn: Mmm. Interesting flavor—not too overpowering, slightly sweet. What do you think?

She speared one of the discs and used her fork to twirl a few of the noodles around it before taking a bite.

Aitas: The sauce counterbalances the sweet nicely. ::not that she generally minded sweet:: And I do so appreciate flavors that aren’t overpowering. Especially now.

The increased sense of smell was still a relatively subtle symptom, one she’d learned to recognize mostly through practice. 

Jakarn: Understandable. ::He ate in silence for a few moments, finding the dish quite good. Whatever the plant slice was, he liked it.:: You’ve arranged for a short leave in the next few days, I hope?

Aitas: Yes. And another in a couple of months, though the timing on that is ::a wave of her hand:: I’ll have an exact date once it gets closer. 

Jakarn: Well, keep me appraised—you know you can call on me whenever you like. 

He nudged his leg against hers, though this round of footsie wasn’t so much flirtatious as gently resting their legs together. An old, familiar comfort. 

Aitas: I quite intend to. The communications system here can be rather disappointing for calls back home. And the letters just aren’t the same.

There was a sense of ease from her that came through that touch, and then a brief, teasing glimpse of brightly colored fabric.

Jakarn: I imagine not—though I imagine we’ll both miss easy access to Risa. Perhaps the Delta will have some place equally welcoming, in time..

Aitas: You do have a talent for finding them. I’m told Idrustix has some pleasant beaches at least, but the colonies there are still quite new. 

And mostly Betazoid, with both the merits and troubles that brought.

Jakarn: All the better a time to get a party started. Starting colonies is the hardest phase—no doubt they could use a drink and a good time. Or the start of a tourist area, perhaps…I’ll have to have a look, at the very least. Especially if I can’t get permission to park my lady in the lake. 

His yacht was a beautiful ship, a star and sea ship all in one—but she was cramped in her flight configuration, lacking the spread of a deck and balcony than unfolded in her sailing configuration. And after weeks in the cramped version, he longed to open the petal-like decks and let the sunlight and scenery in. 

Aitas laughed a little at that, a brief, delicate sound.

Aitas: I’m sure you’ll find someone you can convince. Though, if you’re heading there…well, I got you a few Astrim Avoi pieces. The House colonies at least should appreciate them.

Jakarn: You do spoil me. ::He grinned, now, full on.:: Avoi? Quite the label. And the man has such a talent for color and shape.

Aitas: That he does. Though I’m most looking forward to getting you back out of them.


Fin

Jakarn, Author & Celebrity

As played by

Lieutenant Taelon

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

O239303T10

&

Second Secretary Aitas

Federation Diplomatic Corps

Amity Outpost

O239307A10