Ensign Mi'shune sh'Sonora - "Definitely Dangerous"
d.reinhart
((The I’vish Gallery, Shi’Kahr District, Starbase 118))
sh’Sonora: So, to answer your previous question I have one of your own. How… wedded are you to the home moon’s clan system?
Foster: Not at all… Like I’ve never been to the home moon. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t give two targ farts about me, and well, I figure live and let live, I feel the same about them.
Mi’shune passed by the Andorian Redbat, wrinking her nose and antennae in distaste. Somebody must have put it in as a joke. No Andorian in their right mind would eat that disgusting creature!
The slices of roasted targ were appealing enough, though the thought of roasting good targ meat would make a Klingon blanch.
sh’Sonora: Thank the gods we’re in a more cosmopolitan setting, Sir. Just to let you know, I’m not military clan. Nope, I’m from the merchant clan. More specifically we started with… ::air and antennae quotes:: ‘cultural exports’, but we diversified into agricultural imports. So I hope you’re cool with me going out of my lane by joining Starfleet. A lot of kin from back home don’t approve, including my parental shelthreth.
Foster: I am perfectly cool with your decision. If Starfleet is where you belong then I’m glad you’re here.
Mi’shune brightened up considerably when she saw some terran butter tarts. She plucked one expertly with her chopsticks, and continued to speak.
sh’Sonora: Don’t get me wrong, I come from one of the wealthiest families on the home moon. I would want for nothing. I could live a comfortable life, captain one of my family’s freighters, or use some of that money to bum around the galaxy or join the warp yacht racing circuit. Problem is, it comes with some clan obligations that for personal reasons I’m not going to disclose.
Foster too locked onto the delectable terran treats, which she would guess were a controlled substance in the Vulcan district. Would she see a sucrose-drunk Vulcanoid by the end of the night. She crossed her fingers in hope!
Not exactly the most serious thoughts to have when one is also worried about the shadow of their past, much less disclosing it to one of her fellow Andorians. However, it was how her mind worked, flitting from one thought to the next like a redbat skipping from stalactite to stalactite. It would eventually return to the more serious issue at hand once she scooped up some Denebian potato salad.
So far, what she could tell of his antennae movement, Foster was not disturbed at all.
He really was a foreigner!
Foster: You don’t have to disclose it. Honestly, I don’t know anything about my clan or if I have a clan. I suppose genetically I do, but that’s not a rabbit hole I want to go down. ::he took one of the cheesy potato fritters as well. Growing up on earth he knew darn well how delicious cheesy potato fritters were.:: Though if I could play Devil’s Advocate, do you ever miss what you left behind?
Mi’shune let out a big sigh.
sh’Sonora: I don’t want a comfortable life. I certainly don’t want to live it with someone I don’t love. I want thrills, excitement, purpose, and no family hang-ups in the way. Starfleet for me is a way out.
Foster: Then I think you came to the right place.
His smile, and the way his antennae waved relaxedly, inspired confidence in the young ensign. Now this, she sensed, was a person who was a kindred spirit. One Andorian who wished she was anything but, meeting an Andorian who wasn’t typically Andorian. Separated by circumstance and by culture, but the basics were the same. Still the same manic energy, the affiability, the quick and passionate emotions, and the boundless energy.
sh’Sonora: oO I get the feeling he and I would be as thick as thieves together. Oo
sh’Sonora’s Inner Dialogue: oO Careful! He’s old enough to be your father’s very young friend. Besides, you might like him now, but let’s see what happens when you have to take orders from him. Oo
sh’Sonora: oO Shaddup Brain, or else I’m blotting you out with Andorian Ale.Oo
Foster: I may not understand everything – or maybe hardly anything – about the politics of the Clans back on the home moon. But I promise you that I won’t judge you for your decision to join Starfleet.
She thought back to her inner discussion with a smirk and wry amusement. True, Foster and her had similar temperaments that being raised a sector and a culture apart didn’t erase. She could see herself getting along with the Commander. She hoped.
sh’Sonora: My parents want me to get married. The Genetics Commission wants to turn me into a babymaker. And that’s after we’ve kept naming our new babies Julian. Trust me, Sir, you don’t want any part of that old moon nonsense!
While idly munching on their food, she glanced at the doctor, looking for other signs of what he was thinking. So far, not perturbed. He was just as affable as before.
With one exception.
Foster: Now I’ll warn you that before I wore a dashing red collar I was a chief medical officer so if you skip your physicals – then I may judge you.
The way he humorously delivered what she could tell was an ironclad order, bound by an Admiral-like seriousness, she couldn’t help but laugh.
sh’Sonora: Hah! Look at me, Sir. I’m as fit as a fine-tuned flabjellah, and I plan on staying that way. You got it. Frell… ::She added coquettishly.:: You can even be the attending physician if you want!
A fine chime indicated it was time for Commander Fairhug to make his appearance.
Foster: I expect we’ll have just enough time to finish eating and the Commander Fairhug will have some words to say for everyone. Better get a good seat before they’re gone.
She found her attention wandering again, but this time towards that charming smile and carefree antennae movement. For a moment, she thought there was more to his innocent comment than an invitation to take a seat. The diminutive Andorian had to concentrate to snap herself back to reality.
sh’Sonora: Oh yes, of course. Lead on, Sir.
sh’Sonora’s Inner Dialogue: oO Oh yeah. He’s definitely dangerous. Oo
FIN
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Ensign Mi’shune sh’Sonora
Helm Officer
Starbase 118 - Ops Department
O240208MS1