JP Lt. Cmdr. Yogan Yalu & Cmdr. Addison MacKenzie — The horga’hns of command, Part 2
Addison MacKenzie
(( Harmadu’s Paint-Your-Own Horga’hns, Maklau Beach, Risa ))
MacKenzie: Well, I suppose that would depend on what you classify as a “good job.” The ship was barely space worthy. I was serving as the ship’s chief medical officer - the ship’s sickbay didn’t have a ceiling and barely had any equipment beyond that which would offer basic first aid. We were about to get stuck in a solar flare, so Commander Delano had to leave the ship to return to the Veritas and get us help. Commander - then Lieutenant Commander - Teller was then promoted to CO, and appointed me as his XO.
She paused, fondly recalling the little mess of a ship… And the harrowing shuttle piloting she had to do to avoid the nasty space vipers that threatened to tear both them and the Veritas apart.
MacKenzie: It was as Starfleet missions always are - a lot of thinking on your feet, working outside of the ideal situation without the materials you really need - including time. Was that the answer you’re looking for?
In a word, “no.” In three words, “no, not quite.” In four words, “no, not quite, no.” Yogan plopped his brush into a cup of water and swirled it round, releasing the remnants of “Lauren’s Surprise” from its bristles. He dabbed the brush against a towel, then picked up a glob of a grey-brown called “Tornado Season” and hastily began applying it to the sticky-outy bits of the horga’hn.
Yalu: Yes, I guess so. ::beat:: I knew of you when I was at the Academy–the microsurgeon who was destined to become Chief of Surgery at Starfleet Medical–and I’ve seen you at work for the last year. I look up to you. It could have just as easily been you at Rinascita Station instead of me, and it got me to wonder.
Addison put her paintbrush down and turned to face the man who faintly reminded her of a lumberjack.
MacKenzie: Look, if you’re asking me whether I’ve screwed up, I have. You have, too. And you will again. And so will I. There’s no such thing as the “right” call - there’s only the best decision you can make with the information you’ve got. (beat) You get better at making those calls as time goes on.
“Tornado Season” the paint color ended up being just as destructive to Yogan’s horga’hn as its real life counterpart was to swaths of prairie. It wasn’t worth trying to fix or cover over with another color. Best to just live with it and move on. A fitting, if hamfisted, metaphor for life.
Yalu: You’re right. We’ll never know what might have happened if–– ::voice trails off::
She picked up her paintbrush, rinsing it and opting for a shade of “Yelikan Yellow” - a shade that Hallia would no doubt be proud of, given its vibrancy.
MacKenzie: You and I both know that thinking incessantly about what happened won’t get you anywhere. Replaying it won’t bring them back, won’t change the wounded, and won’t make you feel better.
She was right again. Yogan thought back to what Cayden said to him about there always being a next time. “You learn, you implement, you grow. You do better and you share what you've learned. You connect. And you realize you're not alone.”
Yalu: ::nods:: What will make me feel better is to do better. I want to learn from you. And from Genkos and the captain and anyone else I can.
MacKenzie: Well, I suppose you have plenty of people to learn from… No doubt you’ll have plenty of first-hand opportunities to learn from yourself. Consider this the first.
Addison, having embodied one of Yalu’s previous hosts during Yogan’s zhian’tara earlier in the year, could have been referring to the seven lifetimes of memories that the symbiont possessed, but Yogan didn’t think she was. She meant him; Yogan, the guy whose collected experiences over the past year had prepared him for a brief, unexpected, and complicated flirt with command. He would learn from this, as he had from every experience he’d had since leaving the Academy, and as he would continue to going forward.
Yalu: I’ve already been through the loss of a ship on my first try, and I still want to do it. ::beat:: Not crazy?
She cocked her head quickly.
MacKenzie: No more so than the rest of us…
She paused before looking back in his direction.
MacKenzie: You will never forget the deaths that occurred on your watch - I recall every patient that’s died on my table - but if you continue to let them weigh on you, they’ll most definitely interrupt your ability to do your job in the future.
And would that honor the people who were lost when Resolution was destroyed? Not hardly. The only way forward was to learn, to grow, and to get back into the chair the next time the responsibility landed on his shoulders. Hopefully a little wiser.
Yalu: I will remember them. And I’ll do what I need to do, to be worthy of their sacrifice.
Addison put her brush in the water, looked her statue up and down, then crossed her arms, clearly dissatisfied and frustrated she hadn’t been able to figure out what it was she’d painted.
MacKenzie: Okay, what the hell is this?
Yogan compared his painted horga’hn with Addison’s. They’d taken different approaches in style, color palette, and execution, but it was hard to judge whether either was objectively more artfully done than the other. Yogan bit his lip to stifle a laugh. If painting horga’hns had produced such lackluster results, thank goodness they hadn’t gone parasailing.
Yalu: That–– ::gestures to the figure:: is an original Addison MacKenzie. Surely a collector’s item in 30 years’ time. ::grins:: I heard she didn’t make many. ::beat:: Honestly, I have no idea. I saw them everywhere on the beach earlier, but didn’t catch what they’re for.
Yogan gave a quick nod across the shop to Harmadu, the proprietor, signalling to the elderly fellow that they were finished. Rather than come over to start collecting their used supplies, however, Harmadu turned and made a beckoning gesture through an open doorway to another room. Yogan turned back to Addison and started replacing the caps on tubes of paint.
Yalu: Thank you, for all of it. It’s been a pleasure serving with you.
MacKenzie: Well, I don’t think you’re done serving with me yet, so don’t count that chicken…
Yogan was momentarily distracted by two Risian males entering from the back of the shop. They sidled up to Yogan and Addison’s table, wearing colorful beach attire and lascivious smiles. One of them placed a hand on each of Yogan’s shoulders.
Risa Guy: You seek jamaharon.
Addison paused for a moment before her eyes widened and she wiggled her eyebrows at Yogan, resisting the urge to giggle.
MacKenzie: …you seek jamaharon.
Yalu: ::to MacKenzie:: Let’s never speak of this.
[End Scene]
Lt. Commander Yogan Yalu
Helm Officer
USS Resolution NCC-78145
Justin D238804DS0
First Officer
USS Resolution
V239601AM0