JP LtCmdr T'Lea & Ensign Sival - Two parts Vulcan, one part Ale (part 1)

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Nov 22, 2021, 12:00:12 PM11/22/21

to USS Juneau – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG

((OOC: Takes place directly after T'Lea leaves the awards ceremony.))

((Corridor - Deck 10))

The corridor felt longer than she remembered. Her steps were heavy, and every once in a while she reached to catch her balance against the wall. Walls were nice. They were solid and never moved. People were stupid. They always moved, she thought.

T’Lea: Very untrustworthy in their ability to remain stable and stay in their designated place.

She said out loud to a passerby as if accusing him of a crime. The crewman nodded, smiled and hurried along.

The tipsy Romu-vulc carried on a few meters, and then she stopped. She frowned and glanced around as if she’d lost something important.

T’Lea: Where the hell did they move the turbolift?

Nobody was around to ask the burning question. Who had re-deck-orated? She laughed at the joke, and continued another yard or two before stopping again. She’d almost dropped her precious bottle of Romulan Ale.

T’Lea: Frak. Just like John, always slipping out of my hands. Don’t worry. I’m not done with you yet. I’ll have you. Every last drop of you. ::at the bottle’s label-face:: Jerk.

Unwilling to lose the last remnants of ale in a catastrophic case of fumble fingers, T’Lea improvised a hobo-bag out of Arys’s sweater to carry the candy box and bottle home. She slung the bag over her shoulder using the sleeves as a strap, and then continued on, proud of her ingenuity during such challenging times.

Sival looked around at his crewmates feeling satisfied. He noted that he had interacted with his colleagues in meaningful ways, even beyond making small talk. Sival considered this to be a major personal accomplishment. Sival also had no problems regulating his emotions. Another success.

And, of course, there was the food! It was another one of the ceremony’s awards. How incredibly fortunate he was to have been able to sample an exotic candy and genuine Romulan Ale!

Yes, his performance had been satisfactory. He stood up a little taller and pulled down on his sweater, feeling proud of himself.

While plucking an olive into his mouth, he heard a scuffle from the corner of the room. He turned around and witnessed Lt. Cmdr T’Lea walk with a bottle in her hands - that is, attempt to walk. As she moved, her body swayed a little too far to the left, then she would overcorrect by swaying a little too far to the right. At one point, she seemed to trip and nearly fall over. She continued like this right out of the room.

oO Curious. Oo

Sival was concerned, and although he would never admit it, also slightly amused. This was not the T’Lea he had come to know, the one who seemed confident and who could get things done… how did he put it?... yes, efficiently. She had such a strength of character despite her Vulcan heritage, it seemed to Sival. She had achieved something which had eluded Sival all his life.

Alas, this was not that T’Lea. This T’Lea was in real danger of falling flat on her face. Sival did the calculations in his head, and he determined that there was 91.47% chance that or something similar would happen.

He quickly made his way to the exit, hoping he would get to T’Lea in time so he could escort her to her quarters. He saw her with Arys’ sweater tossed over her shoulder, zig-zagging in a mostly forward direction.

Sival: Commander T’Lea!

She didn’t seem to have heard him, so he called again, this time loudly, just shy of shouting.

Sival: T’Lea!

A faint noise missed her perception. She reached back and scratched her neck. She saw the turbolift doors open at the end of the hall, and deposited a passenger onto the deck.

T’Lea: Hey, hold the lift!

She jogged to catch the car. The Andorian woman held open the doors and smirked at the strange bag slung over her shoulder.

((Turbolift))

Triumph! T’Lea had found where they’d moved the turbolift.

T’Lea: Sneaky bastards. Engineers always fixing things because it’s better and it’s not.

Computer: Please state your destination.

T’Lea: My place.

Computer: Lieutenant Commander T’Lea identified.

T’Lea: That’s right. Say my name, bitch.

Smug with the idea of her galactic fame, T’Lea let the bag slip from her shoulder and leaned against the rail to rest, and for balance. The doors were about to close when a hand shot in, and then a body. It was none other than her Vulcan patriot, Sival. She lifted her eyes to greet him and nodded in a Vulcan fashion with respect.

Sival: =/\= Deck 5 =/\= Commander, I called for you, but you did not respond.

A tone signaled that the computer had acknowledged his request, and the turbolift began to move. Sival tilted his head and looked at T’Lea. He noticed she was leaning against the rail for support. Her posture seemed perfectly in between ‘about to fall down’ and ‘pulling herself up’. Sival wondered which would happen. It could go either way.

T’Lea: I didn’t hear you. Sorry. Are you stalking me, or heading home? Because you’re looking at me like you want something.

Sival opened his mouth to speak, then paused to consider just how to accuse his once commanding officer of being drunk. He continued.

Sival: I only want to ensure that you are well enough to make it to your quarters. You appear to be quite inebriated. Are you feeling okay?

T’Lea: I do not get drunk in front of Ensigns’s Ensign. As far as you are concerned I am emotionally relaxed and I am exploring alternative forms of logic. But thank you for asking. I am quite well. You?

Sival was not familiar with this kind of logic. But, yes, he agreed that she did look relaxed.

Sival: I am also quite well.

T’Lea: Excellent.

The lift spun-up and started to move to T’Lea’s destination first since it was closer. She shifted a little, grabbed the rail for a moment, and then shot Sival a grin.

T’Lea: You know, you’re handsome for a half-breed. Sometimes those don’t turn out very well.

Being called handsome and half-breed probably cancel each other out, but Sival appreciated her honesty.

Sival: Fortunately for me, humans and Vulcans are generally compatible. Complications in offspring are rare.

T’Lea: Considering that Romulans are descendants of Vulcans, I suppose that makes me more Vulcan than you. Although, you tend to act more Vulcan, I’ve noticed. Is that an ‘act’, or are you truly that disciplined?

Sival looked away. That was indeed a good question. He often walked the line between putting up a front and being his genuine self. Sometimes he didn’t know which he was at a certain moment. He decided to let his guard down a bit and admit the contradiction.

Sival: I am disciplined enough to perform the act. I generally suppress emotion whilst among others.

T'Lea: Admit it, you like the squishy, sappy, feely feels too. You're part human, don't you find that annoying?

She said with a mock pouty face, teasing him.

Sival couldn’t resist widening his mouth just a bit. Only the most observant would recognize it as the beginnings of a smile. And even though she was intoxicated, he was quite certain T’Lea recognized it.

Sival: Yes, I do admit that I value my emotions. If I am careful, they can be a source of strength. What about you? You’re part Romulan, don’t you find that annoying?

She scoffed with a short lived moment of indignation. And then she forgot about it completely focusing on a more complicated thought – John and how stupid he was.

T’Lea: Human emotions are so… idiotic and messy. They show you everything and tell you nothing. It’s like they’re afraid of their own frakkin’ feelings. How does one operate under those chaotic conditions? Take me for example, I like most of my feelings. I enjoy them and when I don’t I suppress them. If the situation dictates I must be professional and diplomatic, that is what I am. If the situation dictates that I must remove someone’s cranium, I do it. ::beat:: For the greater good of course. See? Not difficult. Not messy, well, except for the last one. ::finger wag::: But it’s all under perfect emotional control. Mostly.

Sival found this to be an ideal philosophy. He was rarely able to summon the desired emotion for a situation on cue. He could either turn emotions on or turn emotions off. He had never been able to achieve this state.

Sival: I can understand that, but ‘mostly perfect emotional control’ is not a logical concept.

T’Lea: How dare you! ::calmer:: Unless you speak of yourself, in which case I agree. Humans are not logical. ::mellow shrug:: The Kir’Shara teaches us to master one’s emotions, not purge them. I bought fish to help with that. Would you like to see them?

Sival nodded in agreement, both to humans being illogical and to the teachings of the Kir’Shara. But he was curious how fish fit into the picture.

Sival: Sure, I would be interested to see fish that help one to master their emotions. ::with concern:: By the way, are you having trouble keeping your balance, Commander?

Sival noticed T’Lea shift her weight from one foot to the other while she held onto the handrail for support.

She struck a strict Vulcan posture that swayed ever so slightly like a proud mighty oak tree in a Hurricane.

T’Lea: I am not that inebriated, Ensign. Let it go.

oO Yes, you are… Oo Were a gentle breeze to come, she would be down.

Speaking of balance, the turbolift had come to a stop, and it was still a question if T’Lea could walk unaided to her quarters. Seeing the difficulty she seemed to be having standing up while holding her things at the same time, Sival offered his arm for T’Lea to hold on.

Sival: No, to exit the turbolift, we must go this way, Commander.

T’Lea: Of course. Walls do not move.

She accepted the gentlemanly gesture and took Sival’s strong arm, if only to smite John Kendrick, even though he wasn’t there to see it.

TBC in Part 2

Lieutenant Commander T’Lea
Chief Science Officer/ Second Officer
USS Juneau
Author ID I238301T10