Ensign Talon Morda: In the feels
Eston Melton
(( Captain’s Ready Room, Deck 1, USS Khitomer, en route to Deep Space 33 ))
Morda: Ensign Talon Morda reporting, Captain.
Naxell: I agree, that's what it looks like.
At attention, he didn’t give into the temptation to let his lip curl in recognition of the captain’s clever if easy quip, reminiscent as it was of the “mom jokes” that permeated child/caretaker relationships back home. Not that Captain Naxell could compare to Elin Morda.
Naxell: Have a seat, Ensign. Please.
He released from attention and offered a polite smile, taking the chair opposite the captain’s desk.
Morda: Thank you, sir
Naxell: We didn't work together much in Ceram, but the reports from your fellow officers account for you well. How are you feeling about it?
This wasn’t the soft opener Morda expected. New ensigns were told to expect questions about their Academy experience, their career track and aspirations, whether they’d met their division senior NCO and commander, maybe their philosophy on leadership. And, for much of what they shared to be offloaded to the XO and division leader, with the captain becoming the distant fearless leader, glimpsed occasionally on inspection and during string recitals. Maybe not so much here. The captain verbally gestured -- though without the snap-and-point -- to their few moments of overlap on the bridge. Each day since graduation felt like a week.
Morda: “Feeling,” sir? I’m feeling glad we made first contact with a new race, got our crewmates back safely, and got the ship out.
He hesitated, then figured: oO I’m one of dozens of ensigns; probably won’t be in this ready room again for a while. Oo He continued:
Morda: I’m feeling … complex things, I suppose. I’ve spoken with Lieutenant Zerva and others about it. I’m feeling there have been surprises since the moment I came aboard, and the biggest shock by far was the Leviathan’s destruction. I’ve felt shaken by that event’s magnitude, suddenness, and, well, surprise. And I feel like I’m coming to grips with it.
When he broached some of this with Zerva -- though moreso the flashback than the torpedo launch -- he’d subconsciously almost pulled himself into a defensive ball. This time he was cognizant of his posture, aware that he was leaning forward, engaging. He thought, perhaps, some things were settling in to click each time he talked these things through. Just as Lindström and every counselor he’d sat with predicted.
Naxell: Response