PNPC Crewman Jozial Renirs – Can’t you send a text first?
Jovenan
((Renirs’ quarters, Deck 6, USS Artemis))
Jozial: No, papa.
It was more a sigh than a statement of fact or intention. Her voice carried a sense of exhaustion and suppressed frustration, conditions in her that the listener had learnt to ignore, much to her displeasure.
Birjad: Nonsense! A lady of your age surely has a use for a few bricks of latinum every now and then, it’d be no trouble, honey…
Jozial: They don’t even use money here.
It was perplexing how the owner and manager of such a successful business empire such as Birjad Renirs lacked the fundamental understanding of the economics within the largest market area in two quadrants. Granted, his contributions to the venture were limited to being born of the right person, living long enough to witness the untimely death of the actual mogul, his father, and continuing to bet on the right gangs, criminal or police. Or both. Jozial had had to explain the axioms of her livelihood to her parents multiple times, and even now her father looked at her through the screen with a gaze full of doubt.
Birjad: ::shrugs:: Maybe, but you never know when you meet a nice Fer…
Jozial: Papa!
The woman on her screen placed a hand on his shoulder as she turned her head to face him.
Siazrell: Stop pestering her, dear. ::turns to Jozial:: It’s nice to see you, honey. Your father and I have been lonely without you here.
Jozial had to force herself not to roll her eyes. She hadn’t been much home for a few years now; they’ve got used to it. Granted, she might have been the longest time away now without paying them a visit. Still, in her mind, these words were uttered merely due to the social expectations that arose from the façade of a perfect family her parents had decided to adopt, and her mother played the role to keep the non-existent audience from noticing the cracks in the scenery. Jozial had her own part which she was required to perform to appease her parents.
Jozial: I’m sorry, mama. My work keeps me occupied.
It was not a lie, at least the second part was not. Despite the indications of appraisal on an upper rung of the hierarchical ladder of her actions to save the life of a being known to her by the name of “Kader”, the Supervising Petty Officer continued to express nothing but dissatisfaction towards her. Her old punishment, changing the lights on all decks and rooms of the ship, had to be resumed as if her dedication to the Starfleet value of preserving all life at the risk of one’s own wouldn’t have seen her raise in ranks had she been an officer.
Her mother either didn’t believe her or took the lack of time to visit her family as a sign of hard work and irreplaceability on the ship.
Siazrell: Don’t they let you rest at all?
Birjad: I can talk with your captain, I’m sure they’d appreciate a generous donation…
Jozial: No! Mama, papa. We’re going to have a leave just now, but it’s just a short one and it’s a long way to there.
Birjad: Can’t you ask for an extension to…
Jozial: Daaaaaaaad!
Had it been anyone else, she would have terminated the subspace call after a storm of crude words that would have turned a cargo hauler’s ears red. But the litany that almost creeped out of her mouth might have given the two nouveaux-riches with vieux-riche aesthetics heart attacks. She wasn’t ready to go back and inherit the corporation.
Her father raised his hands in sign of surrender, but her mother remained determined.
Siazrell: But surely you’re coming in a few months’ time?
Jozial: ::raises eyebrow:: Why would I?
Birjad: Your old school is having a big event then, for the anniversary of the United Planets.
Jozial had hoped that her mother, a Trill born on Trill, would have bothered to educate her father at least the basics, but her hope had obviously been misplaced. Or maybe she had overestimated her father’s learning skills and her mother’s teaching skills. Regardless, she took this opportunity to correct him herself.
Jozial: It’s not a school, papa. Also, it’s the anniversary of Starfleet, and not the “United Planets”. And no one calls it that.
Siazrell: But wouldn’t you want to come with us? I’m sure they’d want to see you as well, how far you’ve come.
This time Jozial couldn’t get a hold of herself before rolling her eyes. At some point, her mother’s hand had moved from her father’s shoulder to hold his hand in hers.
Jozial: It’s a recruitment centre. Everyone there gets to be a crewman.
Birjad: So, you’re not coming?
Jozial: No.
Siazrell: Even if it is a holiday?
Jozial: It’s not.
Her parents exchanged a look before turning back to their daughter on the other side of the screen. Their look carried a sense of disappointment, a condition in them which Jozial had learnt to ignore. Why couldn’t they get a dog, or a sehlat, or a sibling for her so they would stop pestering her?
Siazrell: Very well.
For a moment her voice was cold and emotionless, at least as long as one didn’t consider disappointment and scorn emotions. You know, the Vulcan definition of emotions.
Siazrell: Have you been safe?
Jozial glimpsed at the blooded uniform, tossed to a pile at the centre of her berth, and the equally blooded, (il)legally acquired set of weapons lying on top of them. She kept her face straight.
Jozial: Yes. It’s been pretty boring.
Her parents nodded approvingly, almost in unison.
Birjad: Have you made any friends?
She tried to listen. The door to her private berth was closed, and soundproofed, but she was fairly certain her two roommates hadn’t yet come back or had headed to straight to Elysium or elsewhere after their shifts had ended. If she was lucky, none of her three reference groups would be meeting each other despite them possibly converging in here within the next few minutes.
Jozial: Some. In matter of fact, I’ll be meeting one of them in a moment, so if you don’t mind…
Birjad: Oh. What are you guys going to be doing?
Out of the field of the camera, Jozial scratched her legs, covered in tights. She didn’t normally wear those, but she wanted to leave “her friend” wondering far down her spots go… which would have been much more effective a tactic if she hadn’t worn shorts in their first “meeting” together. Maybe she could still show her how far… No, no, stop thinking or the blush will alarm the parents!
Jozial: … Nothing.
Mr and Mrs Renirs exchanged looks once more, this time concerned ones. Jozial’s reluctance to talk about her goings was by far not new to them, yet they had wished it would end with getting further away from the dark and filthy alleys of District 7.
Siazrell: Oh Jozial, please don’t tell you’ve got those kinds of friends again.
Jozial: No, mama. The opposite, actually.
“Opposite”? Both her parents raised their eyebrows, in complete unison, watching as their daughter’s cheeks gained a crimson hue and she began to squirm on her seat.
Birjad: Sweetie, have you found yourself a boyfriend?
Jozial: No. Bye.
Her parents were left looking at a dark screen as Jozial quickly terminated the call, casting the PADD across the small berth and burying her red face to her palms. She can’t show her face to them ever again.
End scene
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Crewman Third Class Jozial Renirs
Enlisted technician
USS Artemis-A
E239911J11