((Sickbay, Deck 2, U.S.S. Resolution))
With much of the Resolution’s senior staff off-ship helping to improve the infrastructure of a Romulan colony and much of the crew ashore on Deep Space 224 enjoying its delights, the little surveyor seemed like a ghost ship. Add to that the lack of the usually omnipresent hum of the engines, Iljor found the quiet most unnerving. It seemed as if the very life had been sucked out of it. He knew that it was an irrational thought, one that Meidra would have likely taken him to task over if she were still aboard- but he could not shake it.
He had been wandering the corridors of the Resolution for the better part of an hour with no particular goal in mind. Crewman DeSaan had been running an experiment in the science laboratory and Iljor had been tasked with overseeing it. The results were not due for another two hours and there was nothing else Iljor needed to do that could occupy his mind. So he had taken a walk. Strangely, he did not find the thought of joining his crewmates on Deep Space 224 all that appealing, an oddity considering how much he had enjoyed his last visit to the recreational facilities several weeks earlier. He knew, deep down, what the current source of his malaise was- one that he was still trying to ignore- his parents.
He was still deeply unnerved by the revelations that he had learned about on Trill. That his parents might have been involved in the massacre of unarmed Cardassian religious refugees three decades earlier, seemed to be at odds with the man and woman who had raised him. Iljor knew that a reckoning was drawing near, that he would have to confront his parents with the accusations- but he was not ready. He was still clinging on to the hope that somehow, Jirall had gotten her information wrong. Yet, he could not shake the feeling that she had been right. That his parents were not as innocent as he was desperately hoping they were.
Iljor was considering this when he stopped in his tracks, not realising that he had just stepped into sickbay. He blinked several times, wondering how he had lost track of his steps. Then he remembered he had heard word that Doctor Adea had chosen to remain aboard the Resolution- and considered the idea that he had subconsciously chosen to seek out the Betazoid CMO and Second Officer. He liked the Doctor a great deal, having found him to be open, friendly and possessing a sense of humour that instantly put people at ease. He didn’t really know the man outside of his work, however, probably owing to the differences in their ranks. He turned his head and saw that Adea was sequestered in his office. He didn’t look particularly busy, so in a desire to socialise- if only to leave his troubled thoughts behind for a few moments, he stepped towards the open office door and rapped his knuckle on the door frame.
Etan: Hello, Doctor. ::he said with a small smile.:: I hope I’m not disturbing you?
Etan: Not at all, I’m feeling fine. ::he paused for a moment.:: I was just taking a walk and thought that I could do with seeing a familiar face. The ship is pretty empty at the moment.
For a moment, Iljor considered the fact that Adea was Betazoid and therefore possessed telepathic and empathic abilities. While he was keenly aware that species capable of such capacities were forbidden from conducting scans of other’s thoughts (and he was also sure that Adea would never in a thousand light years conduct an unauthorised scan)- he did not know how easy it was for Betazoids to detect stray thoughts or emotional states. While he was certain that the day would come when he would need to reveal what he had learnt about his parents, he did not want it to be that particular day. He tried to adopt a cheerful demeanour and suppress the thoughts of his parents.
Etan: I was tempted to join the rest of the staff, but I’m due to leave for a science symposium on Raskor I in a couple of days. ::beat:: What about you?
Lieutenant (J.G.) Etan Iljor