JP - Ensign Jaren & Ensign Varik - House Hunters Starship Edition
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Varik
Aug 24, 2025, 9:03:44 PM8/24/25
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(( The Writers Room, Deck 8, USS Octavia E Butler ))
((OOC: This occurs at the beginning of shore leave, shortly after the mission finishes))
Jaren had stopped into the crew lounge 8 FWD, better known as the Writers Room, not because his shift had ended and because he wanted to unwind but because he had a task to do. He paused just inside, taking a second to note the hush of conversation and the smell of spiced synthe-caf lingering in the air. It wasn’t his haunt. There were too many distractions, too much temptation to linger, but he could see why others came.
The fact that it was an enjoyable task that would also give him a short break was a welcome bonus. The Butler’s crew had been through an ordeal and was stretched thin. If anyone needed a break, it was them. He had insisted on doing double shifts to help put the ship back to rights, and he hoped that by putting in extra time and effort, it meant someone who badly needed it could get some guilt free rest and they wouldn’t lose any time on what was likely to be a restoration process spanning weeks, rather than hours or days.
He quickly spotted the person he’d come to see and headed over.
Tarnas: Ensign Varik? Mind if I join you?
Varik had been 'writing' in the Writer's Room for an hour or so when Jaren arrived. Seated at a table near the windows, the Rekarian gazed into the empty cocktail glass in front of him, tendrils of heavy smoke drifting lazily from what little remained in the thin-stemmed glass. The seat to his right was unoccupied save for a singular shot of blanco tequila on the table.
The Rekarian did not appear tipsy nor drunk, just tired. Bags had formed under his eyes, accentuated by the cast of faint olive-green skin.
Varik: Of course.
Looking up from his own drink at the newcomer, Varik gestured to the available seat across from him.
Tarnas: Thank you. In that case, allow me to get you a drink - what are you having?
Varik: Rhian'thae. Smooth, a little sweet up front, but with a sharp and herbal finish. A Rekarian staple.
Jaren headed up to the bar and ordered Varik’s drink. For himself, he ordered some still, chilled mineral water since he was still on the clock. He could not have it said that he was taking unsanctioned breaks and drinking during the day! He even caught the bartender’s raised eyebrow, but a shake of his head and a quick tap to his combadge made his reasoning clear. Rules were rules, and impressions mattered.
He took the drinks back to the table and sat opposite Varik.
Tarnas: How are you feeling after your last mission? I’m sorry for the loss of your colleague. Did you know him well?
That last mission had also been his first. At least, his first in a number of years. A traumatic way to make an entrance.
Varik: It was difficult but it is finished. I am trying to focus on being grateful for the living. ::gesturing to the tequila shot to his right:: Rather than solely remembering the dead.
The Rekarian thanked the ops officer for the drink, a gesture made with a slight raising of his glass and appreciative nod.
Varik: And thank you. He was the first person on board to really welcome me to the ship. To make introductions and give me the tour, so to speak. Too little time to really know him but enough to know his presence will be missed.
Varik passed a lingering gaze towards the tequila shot again before returning his attention to Tarnas. Jaren felt a flicker of sympathy. He hadn’t known the man, but he recognized the role instantly. The first face to welcome you to a new assignment left an outsized mark, and losing that touchstone so soon had to sting.
Varik: I do not believe we've met. You have me at a disadvantage, Ensign...?
Tarnas: Ensign Tarnas, operations. If you need something sorted ::thumbing towards himself:: I’m your guy.
He delivered it with just enough levity to sound approachable, but the set of his shoulders made clear he meant every word.
Varik: A pleasure. How are you faring after the last mission? Were you on the ship?
Indeed, there were so many officers and personnel on the ship that it seemed everybody had a different experience. Varik's was bad, but it could have been much much worse. He could have been turned into a tree.
Tarnas: I actually just arrived today, so I was fortunate to miss the horrors.
Varik: Oh, were you looking for me? I take it you did not come all this way just for a drink.
That much Varik could guess given the man had just a glass of water in front of him. On duty then, he would guess, and looking for Varik. That could be good or very bad for the Rekarian helmsman.
Tarnas: Yes, that’s right. I’m aware you’ve been waiting on permanent quarters assignment. Well, I’ve taken care of it for you, and would like to show you your new home. Though it can wait until you’ve enjoyed your drink. Perhaps in the meantime you can tell me what you like to do to unwind after duty?
Jaren had been here earlier on in the day, speaking with Lahl and Forsyth, but he hadn’t even allowed himself a glass of water. This was the first time since he’d arrived that he’d allowed himself any kind of a break. He sipped the water, and enjoyed how cool and refreshing it was in his mouth.
Varik was not sure if all ops officers on the Butler were this sociable, this friendly, and this sober but one of those things usually had to give. In either case, Varik found himself smiling around the man already, his enthusiasm contagious.
Varik: Thank you. ::he raised the glass to lips for a brief pull of the liquid:: Well, sometimes I will meditate or see what interesting holosuite programs there might be. I also play the lyre. Well, a Rekarian version of a lyre but it is very similar to a Vulcan lute if you are familiar with them.
Tarnas: Ah! I play the Ka’athyra, so I’m quite familiar. Piano as well.
The Rekarian appreciated that the man was a fellow musician. Varik was no virtuoso, not by any means, but he was a competent player and it sounded like this fellow was as well.
Varik: Oh, how exciting. ::genuinely enthused:: How long have you played?
Tarnas: I started learning my first instrument, a hellish woodwind instrument at the age of 6. I took up the Ka’athyra at 9 and piano at 12. Been playing ever since.
A wry grimace tugged at his mouth at the memory, but it softened into pride as he recounted the progression. He wasn’t boasting. Just letting Varik see how deeply music was woven into him.
Varik nodded along, listening to the man as he sipped on his cocktail. A person's choice in musical instrument said a lot about a person. It was a quiet declaration of personality and values. For the helmsman, that took the form of an instrument both old in origin and still at home in contemporary hands. The old and the new.
Varik: Are there any musical groups on the ship? I would be interested in auditioning if so.
Tarnas: I believe Commander Riley also plays an instrument and has an interest in getting musicians together to play.
Varik: Interesting. That is good to know. Are there any other recreational activities you might recommend? I have not yet had a chance to ask around about groups or 'clubs'.
Tarnas: There’s ‘poetry club’ but don’t be fooled by the name. You’ll like it, trust me.
Varik: A poetry club?
The incredulity on Varik's face was obvious even after emphasizing the club was more than what the name implied.
Tarnas: You’ll have to see Dr Nis to find out more, but I understand there to be regular meetings. Perhaps I’ll see you there soon.
Varik: Sure... I will consider it.
The Rekarian was still not convinced, but perhaps he would as Dr. Nis for more information. Maybe.
Tarnas: Alright, let’s go and see about your quarters then, shall we?
He rose smoothly, setting his glass down untouched save for a single sip, a silent reminder that this visit was all about duty, not indulgence.
Varik followed but not before placing a palm on the table next the untouched tequila shot. No prayer was said but a final, solemn thought was spared for his lost friend. He turned away and followed Tarnas out of the Writer's Room and left the past behind.
(( Varik's Quarters, Deck 6 ))
The door swished open, revealing the standard junior officer’s quarters. Modest by design, but with enough space, light, and clean Federation lines to feel like a sanctuary compared to a crowded barracks or transport bunk. The fresh scent of recycled air carried just the faintest trace of polished steel and new upholstery.
On the low table by the viewport, a basket had already been set out, carefully arranged rather than simply delivered. Bundled packets of Rekarian and Romulan teas sat alongside a slim PADD, its header scrolling Collected Speeches of Chancellor Maerak, 2137–2149. A second file shimmered in the corner of the display, marked Selected Essays on Federation and Empire. A delicate stylus of polished wood rested on top, clearly meant for writing as much as for ornament.
Beside the basket sat something less subtle: a framed star chart of Rekar III’s home system, rendered in sweeping silver etching on black crystal, with each orbit traced in careful arcs. It caught the light as the door shut behind them, casting faint gleams like starlight across the bulkhead.
Jaren gestured toward the room with the easy poise of someone unveiling a prize on a gameshow, but with just enough restraint to keep it from tipping into showmanship. It was a fine line, and he knew it. Too much flourish and it would look like a sales pitch, too little and the effort would feel impersonal. He walked that line the way a helmsman held a course: deliberately, with confidence.
Tarnas: Welcome home, Ensign Varik. It’s not the Praetor’s palace, but for a junior officer, this is as close as it gets. ::a flicker of a grin:: You’ll find the basics stocked and working, but I thought a few personal touches might help make the place yours.
He stepped toward the table and indicated the basket.
Tarnas: A welcome selection. Teas, literature, a stylus, even a few speeches I’m told are required reading back on Rekar. I left the commentary out, though. Thought you might prefer to form your own opinion.
It was a very rare occurrence that Varik was stunned into silence. When the operations officer had approached him about permanent quarters, he had imagined being shown to stark quarters -- clean but entirely devoid of personality. A blank slate. This was anything but a blank slate. This was special. The attention to detail. The care in choosing appropriate additions... and then that star chart!
His hand moved to the gleaming star chart, tone softening slightly.
Tarnas: And this, a chart of Rekar III’s home system. I had it etched by a fabricator on DS14. No tactical value, no functional edge, but sometimes… it helps to know that no matter how far you travel, the stars you were born under aren’t lost.
He straightened, hands clasping behind his back with quiet professionalism, letting Varik take it in.
The Rekarian found it difficult to formulate words. Still in shock, he stepped towards the star chart in silent awe. Reaching out to the chart, he traced a finger along the orbit of his homeworld and felt a sudden sense of deep nostalgia. He remained silent a time before finally speaking.
Varik: This is very special. Thank you.
Tarnas: Make yourself at home. And if you find anything here that isn’t to your liking, just let me know. Operations is nothing if not adaptable.
He said it lightly, but the quick glint in his eye suggested he was already cataloguing potential adjustments Varik might request, as if anticipating problems was second nature.
When Varik finally turned towards the operations officer, he was holding back tears. He did not care if doing such in the presence of a colleague showed weakness. Not in that moment. The feeling of appreciation was overwhelming.
Varik: It is perfect. Thank you. (Pausing) Please, forgive me, but I would like some time alone. May I get you a drink sometime? A meal? Something to show my appreciation because this is really quite special.
Tarnas: Your appreciation is already noted but, sure, that sounds nice. See you later.
With a light wave and a small, courteous nod, Jaren withdrew and headed back to the Ops Centre.
When the door to the quarters finally shut behind Tarnas, Varik sank into one of the chairs and for the first time in many years wept. Tears for the fallen and the people and places he left behind. Tears for the future and the unexpected kindness of fellow travelers. Deep down he began to feel this would not just be another posting. It would be a home.
--
Ensign Jaren Tarnas
Operations Officer
Played by:
Ensign Vala Morton
Science Officer
USS Octavia E Butler NCC-82850
O240205VM3
AND
Ensign Varik
Helm Officer
USS Octavia E. Butler
A239709VR0
((OOC: This occurs at the beginning of shore leave, shortly after the mission finishes))
Jaren had stopped into the crew lounge 8 FWD, better known as the Writers Room, not because his shift had ended and because he wanted to unwind but because he had a task to do. He paused just inside, taking a second to note the hush of conversation and the smell of spiced synthe-caf lingering in the air. It wasn’t his haunt. There were too many distractions, too much temptation to linger, but he could see why others came.
The fact that it was an enjoyable task that would also give him a short break was a welcome bonus. The Butler’s crew had been through an ordeal and was stretched thin. If anyone needed a break, it was them. He had insisted on doing double shifts to help put the ship back to rights, and he hoped that by putting in extra time and effort, it meant someone who badly needed it could get some guilt free rest and they wouldn’t lose any time on what was likely to be a restoration process spanning weeks, rather than hours or days.
He quickly spotted the person he’d come to see and headed over.
Tarnas: Ensign Varik? Mind if I join you?
Varik had been 'writing' in the Writer's Room for an hour or so when Jaren arrived. Seated at a table near the windows, the Rekarian gazed into the empty cocktail glass in front of him, tendrils of heavy smoke drifting lazily from what little remained in the thin-stemmed glass. The seat to his right was unoccupied save for a singular shot of blanco tequila on the table.
The Rekarian did not appear tipsy nor drunk, just tired. Bags had formed under his eyes, accentuated by the cast of faint olive-green skin.
Varik: Of course.
Looking up from his own drink at the newcomer, Varik gestured to the available seat across from him.
Tarnas: Thank you. In that case, allow me to get you a drink - what are you having?
Varik: Rhian'thae. Smooth, a little sweet up front, but with a sharp and herbal finish. A Rekarian staple.
Jaren headed up to the bar and ordered Varik’s drink. For himself, he ordered some still, chilled mineral water since he was still on the clock. He could not have it said that he was taking unsanctioned breaks and drinking during the day! He even caught the bartender’s raised eyebrow, but a shake of his head and a quick tap to his combadge made his reasoning clear. Rules were rules, and impressions mattered.
He took the drinks back to the table and sat opposite Varik.
Tarnas: How are you feeling after your last mission? I’m sorry for the loss of your colleague. Did you know him well?
That last mission had also been his first. At least, his first in a number of years. A traumatic way to make an entrance.
Varik: It was difficult but it is finished. I am trying to focus on being grateful for the living. ::gesturing to the tequila shot to his right:: Rather than solely remembering the dead.
The Rekarian thanked the ops officer for the drink, a gesture made with a slight raising of his glass and appreciative nod.
Varik: And thank you. He was the first person on board to really welcome me to the ship. To make introductions and give me the tour, so to speak. Too little time to really know him but enough to know his presence will be missed.
Varik passed a lingering gaze towards the tequila shot again before returning his attention to Tarnas. Jaren felt a flicker of sympathy. He hadn’t known the man, but he recognized the role instantly. The first face to welcome you to a new assignment left an outsized mark, and losing that touchstone so soon had to sting.
Varik: I do not believe we've met. You have me at a disadvantage, Ensign...?
Tarnas: Ensign Tarnas, operations. If you need something sorted ::thumbing towards himself:: I’m your guy.
He delivered it with just enough levity to sound approachable, but the set of his shoulders made clear he meant every word.
Varik: A pleasure. How are you faring after the last mission? Were you on the ship?
Indeed, there were so many officers and personnel on the ship that it seemed everybody had a different experience. Varik's was bad, but it could have been much much worse. He could have been turned into a tree.
Tarnas: I actually just arrived today, so I was fortunate to miss the horrors.
Varik: Oh, were you looking for me? I take it you did not come all this way just for a drink.
That much Varik could guess given the man had just a glass of water in front of him. On duty then, he would guess, and looking for Varik. That could be good or very bad for the Rekarian helmsman.
Tarnas: Yes, that’s right. I’m aware you’ve been waiting on permanent quarters assignment. Well, I’ve taken care of it for you, and would like to show you your new home. Though it can wait until you’ve enjoyed your drink. Perhaps in the meantime you can tell me what you like to do to unwind after duty?
Jaren had been here earlier on in the day, speaking with Lahl and Forsyth, but he hadn’t even allowed himself a glass of water. This was the first time since he’d arrived that he’d allowed himself any kind of a break. He sipped the water, and enjoyed how cool and refreshing it was in his mouth.
Varik was not sure if all ops officers on the Butler were this sociable, this friendly, and this sober but one of those things usually had to give. In either case, Varik found himself smiling around the man already, his enthusiasm contagious.
Varik: Thank you. ::he raised the glass to lips for a brief pull of the liquid:: Well, sometimes I will meditate or see what interesting holosuite programs there might be. I also play the lyre. Well, a Rekarian version of a lyre but it is very similar to a Vulcan lute if you are familiar with them.
Tarnas: Ah! I play the Ka’athyra, so I’m quite familiar. Piano as well.
The Rekarian appreciated that the man was a fellow musician. Varik was no virtuoso, not by any means, but he was a competent player and it sounded like this fellow was as well.
Varik: Oh, how exciting. ::genuinely enthused:: How long have you played?
Tarnas: I started learning my first instrument, a hellish woodwind instrument at the age of 6. I took up the Ka’athyra at 9 and piano at 12. Been playing ever since.
A wry grimace tugged at his mouth at the memory, but it softened into pride as he recounted the progression. He wasn’t boasting. Just letting Varik see how deeply music was woven into him.
Varik nodded along, listening to the man as he sipped on his cocktail. A person's choice in musical instrument said a lot about a person. It was a quiet declaration of personality and values. For the helmsman, that took the form of an instrument both old in origin and still at home in contemporary hands. The old and the new.
Varik: Are there any musical groups on the ship? I would be interested in auditioning if so.
Tarnas: I believe Commander Riley also plays an instrument and has an interest in getting musicians together to play.
Varik: Interesting. That is good to know. Are there any other recreational activities you might recommend? I have not yet had a chance to ask around about groups or 'clubs'.
Tarnas: There’s ‘poetry club’ but don’t be fooled by the name. You’ll like it, trust me.
Varik: A poetry club?
The incredulity on Varik's face was obvious even after emphasizing the club was more than what the name implied.
Tarnas: You’ll have to see Dr Nis to find out more, but I understand there to be regular meetings. Perhaps I’ll see you there soon.
Varik: Sure... I will consider it.
The Rekarian was still not convinced, but perhaps he would as Dr. Nis for more information. Maybe.
Tarnas: Alright, let’s go and see about your quarters then, shall we?
He rose smoothly, setting his glass down untouched save for a single sip, a silent reminder that this visit was all about duty, not indulgence.
Varik followed but not before placing a palm on the table next the untouched tequila shot. No prayer was said but a final, solemn thought was spared for his lost friend. He turned away and followed Tarnas out of the Writer's Room and left the past behind.
(( Varik's Quarters, Deck 6 ))
The door swished open, revealing the standard junior officer’s quarters. Modest by design, but with enough space, light, and clean Federation lines to feel like a sanctuary compared to a crowded barracks or transport bunk. The fresh scent of recycled air carried just the faintest trace of polished steel and new upholstery.
On the low table by the viewport, a basket had already been set out, carefully arranged rather than simply delivered. Bundled packets of Rekarian and Romulan teas sat alongside a slim PADD, its header scrolling Collected Speeches of Chancellor Maerak, 2137–2149. A second file shimmered in the corner of the display, marked Selected Essays on Federation and Empire. A delicate stylus of polished wood rested on top, clearly meant for writing as much as for ornament.
Beside the basket sat something less subtle: a framed star chart of Rekar III’s home system, rendered in sweeping silver etching on black crystal, with each orbit traced in careful arcs. It caught the light as the door shut behind them, casting faint gleams like starlight across the bulkhead.
Jaren gestured toward the room with the easy poise of someone unveiling a prize on a gameshow, but with just enough restraint to keep it from tipping into showmanship. It was a fine line, and he knew it. Too much flourish and it would look like a sales pitch, too little and the effort would feel impersonal. He walked that line the way a helmsman held a course: deliberately, with confidence.
Tarnas: Welcome home, Ensign Varik. It’s not the Praetor’s palace, but for a junior officer, this is as close as it gets. ::a flicker of a grin:: You’ll find the basics stocked and working, but I thought a few personal touches might help make the place yours.
He stepped toward the table and indicated the basket.
Tarnas: A welcome selection. Teas, literature, a stylus, even a few speeches I’m told are required reading back on Rekar. I left the commentary out, though. Thought you might prefer to form your own opinion.
It was a very rare occurrence that Varik was stunned into silence. When the operations officer had approached him about permanent quarters, he had imagined being shown to stark quarters -- clean but entirely devoid of personality. A blank slate. This was anything but a blank slate. This was special. The attention to detail. The care in choosing appropriate additions... and then that star chart!
Varik: I... I do not know what to say.
His hand moved to the gleaming star chart, tone softening slightly.
Tarnas: And this, a chart of Rekar III’s home system. I had it etched by a fabricator on DS14. No tactical value, no functional edge, but sometimes… it helps to know that no matter how far you travel, the stars you were born under aren’t lost.
He straightened, hands clasping behind his back with quiet professionalism, letting Varik take it in.
The Rekarian found it difficult to formulate words. Still in shock, he stepped towards the star chart in silent awe. Reaching out to the chart, he traced a finger along the orbit of his homeworld and felt a sudden sense of deep nostalgia. He remained silent a time before finally speaking.
Varik: This is very special. Thank you.
Tarnas: Make yourself at home. And if you find anything here that isn’t to your liking, just let me know. Operations is nothing if not adaptable.
He said it lightly, but the quick glint in his eye suggested he was already cataloguing potential adjustments Varik might request, as if anticipating problems was second nature.
When Varik finally turned towards the operations officer, he was holding back tears. He did not care if doing such in the presence of a colleague showed weakness. Not in that moment. The feeling of appreciation was overwhelming.
Varik: It is perfect. Thank you. (Pausing) Please, forgive me, but I would like some time alone. May I get you a drink sometime? A meal? Something to show my appreciation because this is really quite special.
Tarnas: Your appreciation is already noted but, sure, that sounds nice. See you later.
With a light wave and a small, courteous nod, Jaren withdrew and headed back to the Ops Centre.
When the door to the quarters finally shut behind Tarnas, Varik sank into one of the chairs and for the first time in many years wept. Tears for the fallen and the people and places he left behind. Tears for the future and the unexpected kindness of fellow travelers. Deep down he began to feel this would not just be another posting. It would be a home.
--
Ensign Jaren Tarnas
Operations Officer
Played by:
Ensign Vala Morton
Science Officer
USS Octavia E Butler NCC-82850
O240205VM3
AND
Ensign Varik
Helm Officer
USS Octavia E. Butler
A239709VR0
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