[JP] Cmdr. Desoa & Lt. Bjarnadóttir - Surely to the Sea (Part III)
Jo Marshall
((N’Vea Hospital Holodecks, Deluvia IV: Rangárvallasýsla, Iceland))
Bjarnadóttir: I thought it was everything I’d been working toward. ::She shook her head.:: But it didn’t take long for me to realise my heart just wasn’t in it. I was good at it. But I was bored.
Desoa: How do you feel about your current position? ::His smile turned a little wry, mirth flashing in purple.:: Is your heart well placed in this?
Bjarnadóttir: I believe so. ::And she left it there, with all the implications the words carried. Thoughtful, she was silent for a few steps in their shared journey.:: You must have an idea what it’s like. You didn’t start off in Starfleet.
Humming like a lyrical songbird, the tall Tyrellian nodded, his hand playing with her fingertips. A few years had passed in Starfleet company, each one flying faster than the last. Politics had changed, seasons had come and gone, and yet Palanon remained the same. He thought of the Tyrellian starships docked in Iana Station, and wondered where the Ahavi Yovan was.
Desoa: I did not. I entered service shortly after I finished university, trained in tactics and diplomacy, ::he sighed a little, wistfully, like it was a simple life recounted in a sentence,:: and walking those riverbeds has brought me here.
Bjarnadóttir: Why did you make the change?
Desoa: Our Admiral asked if I would be interested in participating in the exchange of officers for a limited time. Exchange cultures, explore new opportunities, train sector Starfleet Commanders on the system, learn at Starfleet Academy… ::Trailing off, her broad companion smiled.:: Sixteen years in the Ahavi, it was time to make new discoveries. Walter offered me the First Officer post.
Bjarnadóttir: Never thought about going back?
Smile twitching at his lips, Jal regarded Petra for a slow moment. A stamp in time, a mark, where one footfall after the other punctuated a slice of silence, sweetened only with the sounds of running water in the near distance.
Desoa: I imagine everyone has their moments, when they miss home. ::His large fingers settled through hers once more, warm hands connected to a warm heart.:: Would you like to come with me?
Bjarnadóttir: It only seems fair. I’ve shown you mine. ::She grinned, a fizz spiralling over shoulders and down her spine at the exchange.:: What’s it like?
Desoa: Thimis is— ::his eyes narrowed for a second, under the glint of streaming sunlight,:: —old and beautiful. It was one of the first cities founded during the migration, with ancient traditions that it has never quite shaken off. Laerin has rugged mountains, forests, and lakes, and small islands nearby.
Trying to explain his home to someone else was a little strange; like trying to describe what the inside of his eyelids looked like, or the way colours transformed on the trees in the changing seasons. Purple boughs of the trees, golden leaves of the saplings, crisp air in the mountains, deep seas to swim in.
Desoa: Their quinquennial decagames are due, if you would like to go to watch them.
Bjarnadóttir: I’m due some leave.
Overdue some leave. Determined to make the best start in her new role, make the best impression on the people around her, she’d barely stopped since her assignment to the Triumphant. Exploring Palanon, learning about its culture and people, with Jal as company and guide seemed a fine way to spend her accumulated days. Rest and recovery, body, mind, and soul, for the both of them.
Just thinking about it was an invitation to a thumping heart and an explosion of butterflies where her stomach had once been. Pink washed like watercolour over her cheeks once more, and she fought to keep her smile moderate, and not explode into the goofy grin trying to break through.
Bjarnadóttir: Maybe you could finish up your medical leave back on Palanon? There has to be something said for the restorative power of home and family.
Desoa: Camp in the valleys. Watch sunrises from the islands. Swim in the ocean. Eat good food and drink plenty… of health invigorating tea, of course.
It seemed a little slice of paradise held in an Icelandic hand, one Jal squeezed gently as he smiled. A chance to get to know one another in ways they didn't already, away from familiar faces and discovering unfamiliar places together. The prospect of seeing his homeworld’s wonders through Petra's eyes sent the beating of light bird wings around his chest.
Bjarnadóttir: Of course. ::Amusement sparkled in her eyes.:: A walking tour of the finest herbal infusions. Sounds... purifying.
Desoa: I can promise it will be unlike anything you have had before.
Their walk saw a steady and gentle incline upwards, through the beautiful waving grass as the morning set in blue skies. Calls of the birds overhead only increased as the valley opened up, the sounds of running water—powerful and crashing—down. Jal paused for a second to look down the middle of the valley, rocks on either side, green grass underfoot, to the roaring waterfall at the other end. Light arched from it as the sunlight bounced through the stream and rising vapour from beneath enshrouded the natural beauty of it.
An idea caught in his mind as Jal gazed at the unrelenting, powerful force that it was, then drew his eyes toward Petra as the idea took root.
Desoa: In all the time you have hiked this trail, have you ever stood beneath it?
Bjarnadóttir: Would you like to? ::She lifted her hand, pointing toward a rocky trail near the cliff face.:: There’s a path which leads behind.
Desoa: Yes, ::her Tyrellian companion's grin brimmed,:: I would. Cold mountain water is good for the body and the soul, yes?
Bjarnadóttir: Right up until hypothermia sets in.
She grinned at him, only half joking. It was not a problem in a holodeck program, of course—one could simply switch it off, swap locations to a cosy cabin with a roaring fire, or a thermal spa. But this was her first time visiting the waterfall in a holodeck, and it was hard to switch out of that practical caution.
Bjarnadóttir: This is Seljalandsfoss. It’s one of the few places which doesn’t have any myths associated with it, good or bad. ::Blue eyes drifted up the full height of the cliffs.:: Makes you wonder why.
Looking up at the powerful, magnetising torrential force of water pouring down from the cliff in high, Jal stood in awe. The strong sun shining down passed through the water, glinting off the surging stream as if it were a fast flowing river, the roar of an ongoing lullaby. Gallons plunged into the pool below, churning the deep mouth with white waters, beautiful and clean. They were so small compared to the majesty of it, as if at any moment a giant could walk along the steps they'd taken and cup their hands under the cacophonous riparian lagoon for a drink.
Desoa: My people have many, you can borrow ours. ::His smile grew, tearing his eyes away from the splendour of it to Petra.:: Come on.
His hand tightened, fingers threaded through Petra's as they approached the waterfall, the high crest of water spraying them with a peppering of droplets, the lightest semblance of rain in the wind. All around them the bones of the earth, well fleshed in green moss, soaked up the moisture in the air. Through the torrent of water from above, the sheets of silver slashing mountain river plunging off the cliff edge overhead, the sunshine beamed in interrupted shards, glinting light on the soft, loamy ground.
Eyes shining with devilry, the Tyrellian grinned to his Icelandic companion.
Desoa: Ever jumped in?
Bjarnadóttir: Are you kidding? It’s freezing.
His grin only grew bolder as he shed his backpack with a thump and held his hand out toward her. Breath frigid on the air, the effect of the temperature controls in full swing. Sparks in his eyes suggested he would have offered the same thing even if they were standing on the bank of the real pool, under the real waterfall, waiting to be drenched in freezing water.
Desoa: We are in a holodeck, and there is a first time for everything.
Petra stood there, staring at him in silent disbelief for several ticks of the second hand around the clock. Then, with an incredulous laugh—maybe at him, maybe herself, maybe all of it—she too shrugged her backpack from her shoulder. She kicked off her boots for good measure, heavy as they were, and then grasped his hand tight.
Bjarnadóttir: On three?
TBC
--
Commander Jal Desoa
First Officer
USS Triumphant
G239304JM0
&
Lt. Petra Bjarnadóttir
Chief of Security and Tactical
USS Triumphant
T238401QR0