Ensign Meris - A Room of One's Hue
Meris/Brian
(( Turbolift - En Route to Deck 5 - USS Artemis-A ))
Meris stood in the turbolift, one hand clutching the strap of their personal duffel and the other holding a slightly less sticky PADD. The meeting with the Captain had been ... illuminating, if not entirely smooth. Still, they felt it ended better than it had begun. That counted for something.
oO First impressions could have been worse. I think the Captain knows I'm here to do a good job for her - for the Artemis. Oo
They tapped at the PADD, scrolling to find the living quarters they'd been assigned by the ISAACS system.
Meris: Deck 5, Section 7 ... Cabin 6. Port aft.
They tilted their head, imagining the view and recollecting as best they could the Artemis' deck configuration.
oO That should give me a clear shot of the nacelles. Maybe even a bit of the shuttle bay ... definitely the drydock and the maintenance ballet currently going on. Oo
The turbolift hummed gently beneath them as it made its way through the ship’s spine. Meris shifted their weight, glancing at the subtle seams in the bulkhead with a kind of affectionate curiosity.
Meris: So many corridors. So many duranium walls, polyduranide interior panels, and carpeted corridors. So many opportunities to get lost...
(( Deck 5, Section 7 - Corridor ))
The turbolift doors whooshed open. Meris stepped out and followed the corridor until they found the correct door. Cabin 6. Their name already appeared on the plaque, neatly etched into the sunflower colored surface assigned to Junior Officers:
MERIS, HELMSMAN
They stared at it and blinked.
oO Well, that’s going to be a problem. Oo
They raised a brow and reached out to touch the plaque gently.
Meris: I mean ... they could’ve just said Helmsperson. Or Helm Officer. Or ... anything else.
Beneath their name was a second set of words:
BERTH EMPTY
Meris nodded once. The ISAACS system had done them at least one courtesy, it seemed.
Meris: Looks like I get the place to myself, for now.
(( Cabin 6 - Junior Officer Quarters ))
The door slid open with a whisper and Meris stepped into the quarters. It was clean. Predictable. Sterile in the way that all quarters started before someone made them their own. They glanced out the windows and saw their prediction had been correct.
oO It's ironic that the Artemis' Helmsperson would be assigned a rear-facing compartment. I'll always be looking at where we've been, rather than where we're going. Oo
Crossing into the small sleeping compartment they set their duffel on the bed and looked at it for a moment.
oO Light packer. No other baggage. Is that a strength? A weakness? Maybe that’ll give me something to talk about with the Ship’s Counselor. Oo
They gave a slight shrug and moved back into the common area. Beige walls. Matte trim. Regulation-approved blandness from floor to ceiling.
Meris: This will not do.
Starfleet regulations granted permission to officers assigned to a starship for more than six months to redecorate their quarters to fit with their personal style - in fact, regulations practically insisted upon it. Meris had been told it had something to do with maintaining morale and mental health on deep space deployments. That suited the J'naii just fine. They stepped up to the replicator.
Meris: Standard pigment set, wide spectrum. Satin finish. Organic binders. No brushes.
The replicator whirred and deposited several jars of richly hued paint which Meris carried back to the sitting area, setting them down on a coffee table. They stripped off their duty jacket, tossing it over the arm of the couch, revealing their regulation black undershirt beneath. They stared at the wall thoughtfully.
oO That bookcase wants to be moved. Oo
Stepping forward, the J'naii grabbed the sides of the empty bookcase and dragged it across the carpet till it was out of the way. Meris then returned to staring at the wall.
oO What do you want to be? Oo
Without looking, Meris picked up one of the jars off the coffee table and cracked open the lid. They took a deep breath, their shoulders relaxing noticeably, and then dipped their fingers into a deep cobalt blue.
Meris: Let’s make some chaos.
They stepped to the wall and placed a bold, swirling stroke of blue across the surface. Then came orange. Then magenta. The strokes were fast, instinctive, emotional - so unlike the quiet, and chaste persona Meris often projected.
oO Structure is a necessity. But this ... this is freedom. Oo
Their fingers moved with increasing confidence, spreading the colors in waves, arcs, sharp bursts, and graceful curves. The mural took shape - a wild, vivid, joyful abstract.
By the time Meris stepped back to assess the beginnings of their work, their hands were a mosaic of pigments. The wall no longer whispered Starfleet uniformity.
Meris: Much better.
(( Ends ))
---
Ensign Meris
Helm Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240207M14