JP: PNPC Commander Adriana Morgan & LTJG Nolen Hobart — Behind Closed Doors, Part II
Marissa Jeffrey
((The Many-Doored Room))
Hobart: That's, um, where I keep the faces I know. But the names are somewhere else. Here, I'll show you.
Gesturing for Adriana to follow, Nolen strode smoothly toward the door in question, like a child wanting to show off all his favorite parts of his bedroom to a new friend. Another heavy click from beyond the wall that held it and light once again licked out along the floor from the gap. He gave the handle a healthy twist and pulled the door open to reveal another impossibly large room, filled with stacks of books. Or, more precisely, photograph albums of a kind not typically seen in centuries. And peering through one of them was a nebbish-looking version of Nolen Hobart, complete with a green translucent bookkeeper's visor hanging off his forehead. The man gave the pair of onlookers a friendly (if unsteady) wave.
Nolen closed the door again.
It was an interesting setup to be sure, and one that seemed to make sense. She’d never be able to keep it all straight, but perhaps that was why she was in communications, and not engineering.
Morgan: Nice fellow.
Curiously, she looked to the other doors, and seeming to open to sharing a bit, he started pointing at them.
Hobart: ::pointing at another door:: In there's food. ::pointing at yet another darkened door:: And that's all the inventions I've made. Not always a safe place to go. ::gesturing around him:: Everything has its place. Is that… not how your brain works?
The net a laugh, but not a mean one. It was just that she couldn’t possibly see herself as being quite so structured. In fact, she was kind of the opposite and she almost hated the idea of having a tour through her…well the other her’s…mind.
Morgan: Not exactly. I’m a bit more chaotic and messy, and that’s probably why I would never make a good engineer.
He smiled at her, pleadingly, but his eyes darted nervously off to one side in particular. Conspicuously off and away on a lengthy section of wall hung a door without any neighbors. It was battered and worn, and practically falling off of its hinges. Unlike the other doors, whose soothing forest green paint seemed fresh, the lonely door’s paint was an ugly clash of gray and pinkish-purple, and clearly hadn't been touched up in years. His smile slowly grew more strained, and his ability to resist glances to the door waned. A lump began to form in his throat. A bracing fear took hold of him until his hands balled into fists and he pushed past it.
As she spoke in her typical manner, she noticed his expression shift. An almost uncomfortable silence seemed to settle around them despite the echo of the conversation going outside. Adri let it be, until he found his voice.
Hobart: You're, a little… um. That is to say you were born before me, I think? Yes? So, uh, were you on Betazed during the… the bad times?
So that was it. She’d met a number of survivors from the so-called ‘bad times’, and each of them handled it differently. It was those who only had heard the stories who were never quite sure on what to do or think about the whole thing. Adri wondered mildly if he was the unwitting recipient of night terrors, the broken mental state of some survivors, or simply the history told in the books.
Morgan: I was young, but I was for a time.
Nolen examined Adriana’s features for a while. What did that do to a person? What scars might it leave lingering behind that face? Under different circumstances, would it be possible for either of them to force their way into the other’s memories? What might he see? What might she? The shape of a recollection began to form in Nolen’s mind, something horrible and violent, and he shut it out as quick as it appeared.
Hobart: Real bad?
Adri offered a knowing and reassuring smile. Somewhere behind her, there was a noise behind the untouched door. Or was that her imagination?
Morgan: I was spared much of the struggle because of where we lived. We were far from the cities and pretty much in the middle of nowhere. The troops eventually came, but we were well hidden by then, and found our way off world.
Hobart: ::weak smile:: I think that makes you lucky. I’ve never been to Betazed, but I can’t imagine there’s much to enjoy anymore.
He paused after the thought escaped his imaginary lips. It was judgmental of him, and based on… basically nothing? He had probably just insulted her home, and by extension, insulted her. His entire consciousness blushed.
Hobart: Sorry.
Morgan: The thing about the dark times is that they have to exist in order for light to be born. Those who walked through the fire did so as a part of something far bigger than they or we are. Is it fair, hell no, but it is the way of the universe.
She shook her head.
Morgan: Just ask mister Trill out there. One day he, too, will die, and with that he will become part of the chorus that resides within the Niac symbiont, complete with his trauma and all of his manners of dealing with it.
Nolen tried to focus on his outer senses. The conversation with Commander Niac was wrapping up, it seemed. The man seemed… happy. Whole. A strange way to be with a chunk of one’s personality extricated and plopped into someone else’s head, granted, but it briefly gave Nolen a kind of hope. Half a smile pinched sharply up into one cheek, until his dark eyes landed on the gray door again, past Adriana’s shoulder.
What kind of trauma did the XO carry? What regrets? What nightmares haunted him after every shift? Because it was so often on clear display, Nolen was rarely given to wonder much about the internal workings of other minds. But in a moment that dragged on for hours, he was fixated on the thought. To carry a tragedy a lifetime to the grave was one thing, but for a joined Trill, was there a greater responsibility to wrap things up nicely for the next guy? For almost everyone, death was an ending. As far as they knew. But for a man like Commander Niac, it was just the turning of a page. That was, perhaps, a worse fate. As a thick, sickly green tendril of smoke curled up from under the ragged door, Nolen’s attention snapped back to the now familiar-woman in his Room.
Hobart: ::deep breath:: Whatever it is, I hope he fixes it, first. Before he goes, you know. That’s an awful burden to carry forever.
She shot him a knowing smile.
Morgan: He’s on the right path.
He let out a flat grunt of acknowledgment. The light around them shifted almost imperceptibly.
Hobart: Hope so. ::looking up:: Does that mean you're done out there?
Adri shrugged.
Morgan: Got me, this is my first time. I suppose that would make sense though.
Hobart: Are you eager to get back?
Now that was a bit of a loaded question. Would she had rather stuck it out in the world where she could explore on her own and feel the universe around her in the way she was used to, or did she want to return to the hall of voices where she’d strangely been relegated thanks to whatever it was that caused them to swap in the first place? The answer was that there was no answer. Adri approached it like she might anything else.
Morgan: I am simply willing to go with the flow. Whatever happens is what happens.
Hobart: ::frowning:: Not really any other way, is there?
Stepping towards him, she extended a hand and put it on his shoulder.
Morgan: There are those out there who understand. Reach out to them. Isolation doesn’t do anyone any favors.
Nolen tried to respond, but no words formed, only a fear. It wasn’t a fear of Adriana, or even others out there, just a vague sense of impending doom. He managed a nod of understanding. There was motion outside, and Adri smiled as she took a step back and faded from view, leaving the room of many doors with a lone occupant once more.
END
———
Commander Adriana Morgan
Communications Specialist
As simmed by:
Commander Ash MacKenna
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Arrow
R238605KN0
and
Lieutenant Junior Grade Nolen Hobart
Engineering Officer
USS Arrow (NCC-69829)
A240001NH3