Lt JG Imril- David Attenborough's Starfleet
Chris Taylor
((Imril’s Quarters, Deck 3, USS Artemis-A))
Like the desert bird for which they are named, the brown-crested Imril rises early.
Imril’s combade, situated atop their nightstand, began beeping an alarm charm.
Their hand was already reaching to silence it.
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The Bactrican imril is known for fancy footwork across dusty scrublands comparable to the Australian outback. Darting this way and that as it hunts down the sparse dewdrops in the early dawn, and the variable shelter of mid-morning shadows. To say nothing of the complicated mating dances which first drew the attention of native naturalists many hundreds of years ago.
Its star-flung namesake occasionally displays similar feats of dexterity.
In winding circles, Imril pirouetted around their living space to the tune of Aquan water-harps. They were dressed in a black t-shirt festooned with the word “ARTIE” across the chest and two little white Starfleet emblems on the short sleeves, and a pair of Operations-yellow workout sweats.
Their routine slowed here and there so that they might add a bit of athletic flair to the movements. A long dip forwards or back. A tighter spin. A more complicated pattern of steps. The raise of one leg up along the length of their torso, assisted by their hands. All done in balletic precision.
--
Fastidious about its appearance, and keen to keep its feathers free of irritative sand, the magnificently-striped bird preens regularly. Calling out to its neighbors with a soft whistle, which sharpens should any predators come into view. For the moment, Starfleet's singular Imril is free of such enemies. Nevertheless, facilitations towards cleanliness must be observed.
A come-down series of stretches was followed a full set of pushups, situps and jumping jacks before Imril made their way to the restroom and its sonic shower.
((Main Mess Hall, Deck 3, USS Artemis-A))
While typically found in the lowlands of Bactrica’s Potara-Yt region, imrils have been spotted high up in the sand-worn mountainsides to either side. Driven to form novel ecological niches by the eternal search for food and shelter. Not so different from our Imril, who enjoys access to a number of locations from which to procure meals. Spread across numerous architectural levels.
Imril wore a fresher Artie shirt atop dark casual pants as they maneuvered the corridors of Deck 3. The doors of the Mess Hall opened to them, revealing several faces which had become more familiar after moving on up to Lt JG quarters. Intermingled with fresher ones; Imril was no longer the new cadet on the block after all. Instead of being the newbie, they regularly found themself surrounded by them.
An opportunistic omnivore, the Imril will consume nearly anything which they have not tried before. Here, we see a distinction from the beautiful pale-brown bird of the Alpha Aisles, which relies almost exclusively on a diet of insects.
Imril was in the mood for something they’d never eaten before. As they often were on their days off. Days away from Main Engineering and away missions were days of discovery! Fortunately, the replicators could provide randomized course selections. Collectively balanced to meet the nutritional requirements of a given customer.
Imril: =/\= Computer, give me an Aspergosian mince-meat hash, scrambled eggs Violacean style, and a Fillandian summer nut roll.
The offerings smelled appetizing enough as they came out of the replicator. Whether or not any of these items would appear again on Imril’s morning menu would depend on how well they paired with their preferred source of caffeine. Which they replicated next.
It is here that we must detour from observation of our subject to address the history of the drink known in Federation space as raktajino. It was adapted from a Klingon drink called ra’taj (or, ‘coffee with liquor’ in tlhIngon Hol). Somewhere along the cultural divide of the mid-23rd Century, the alcoholic addition was replaced with both cream and a gastronomically nutlike flavoring. Forming the basis of a beverage which has remained very popular on this side of the border, regardless of how well the Klingon Empire is doing in opinion polls.
A clattering to one side of the chamber drew their attention to the site of Roy Bancroft stumbling away from a replicator, looking as disheveled as the breakfast items on his tray. They were well aware of his night-hawk tendencies, and resulting grogginess come the morning, from their time as room-mates. But somehow, this time it looked more serious.
Concerned, Imril decided to find a seat next to him.
Bancroft: You look… lumpier than usual.
Imril: ::Feigning ignorance of who/what Bancroft is talking to:: Really? I’ve been working out more lately.
This fact owing in part to not having to sneak off to the gym to avoid waking a red-eyed roommate anymore. Still, free reign over their own quarters did come packaged with a certain loneliness.
Imril sat down across from the Human. The oatmeal, too, was a well-remembered image of his morning routine.
Imril: Did you stay up even later than usual? Again?
Tho’Bi/Bancrotft: response
As the searing sun marches towards noon, and insect colonies and water sources go into retreat, tempers begin to flare among these otherwise sociable birds. Imrils that wander too close to a neighbor's territory will soon meet a pecking beak and leaping claw. The humanoid Imril has put work into maintaining a level head across the past year, but every now and then they can’t help but stir the social pot.
Imril: ::Teasing:: You’re a JG now. You should be setting a better example of observing duty-shift timetables.
Tho’Bi/Bancrotft: response
Imril’s first taste of breakfast was that of their coffee. The one thing guaranteed to go well in their culinary experiment.
Imril: Any particular reason for this particular bout of all-night-ism?
Tho’Bi/Bancrotft: response
((OCC: Notes on raktajino were taken from Klingon For The Galactic Traveller, time-stamped to fit the namedrop in Discovery).))
[TAG/TBC!]
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Lieutenant JG Imril
Engineering Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240110I12