Commander Toryn Raga - The First Officer's First Responsibility

[Rameses]

((“Book Nook” - Cryogenic Compartment, Mission Pod Level B, USS Ronin))

The small organized stack of PADDs stood in two small towers, beside him, far more diminutive that the disorganized chaos of the devices that seemed to sprout like tribbles in Karrod’s office.

The Al-Leyan’s legs sat crossed over one another, the outside edge of his feet rested in the crook of the opposite knee and he sat motionless, body still and barely seeming to breathe in a deep meditative state. His hand rested against the deck plating of the floor, palms down so he could feel the ship around him. The air was crisp, which was expected in the Cryogenic compartment. The negative space of which had been co-opted into an unofficial reading space. To the point that anywhere it would not negatively impact operation of the room itself, bean bag chairs, cushions and an endless supply of blankets had been stuffed for when the crew needed some quiet to read someplace other than their quarters. Toryn had noted a great many of the junior crew, non-coms particularly utilized the space as they were almost always quartered with at least one or more bunkmate. And not everyone being as bubbly and outgoing as their Chief Nurse, some appreciated the seclusion. Even on a crew as close knit as the Ronin people needed personal time alone. 

Toryn preferred this place for meditation most times for both its seclusion, away from the rambunctiousness of his children, and the lower temperature of the room due to the cryogenics plant within. It was like a warm arctic day back home in Sez Toural. It also had an added benefit. From here it was above the entire ship. With only one deck above him and the rest below he could focus out the white noise of the crew that he constantly heard. Hearing as exceptional as that of his species, had its own challenges and burdens. A fact made no more evident than spending days in a confined yacht with Karrod and able to hear the slug, as the Trill referred to it, sloshing around in his gut whenever the Captain had a disagreement with his symbiont. Generally preceding a sharp poke to his abdomen. 

From here he could focus his thoughts. Sort through and revisit the thousands of memories stored in his mind of the people of the PTE-2891 system that he’d purposefully requested to keep in honor of their loss. A faint smile of solace curled his lips. Even though the memories were almost entirely of hardship and suffering of people he’d never met and who had all died long before they’d arrived there, they were in a way, living on through him. 

Toryn could hear the soft gasp from the crewman wrapped like a Terran burrito in another part of the room, deeply enthralled in whatever book she was reading. The uptick in her heart rate briefly from whatever she’d read that had her so engrossed. From here he could hear so much when meditating. Sorting through it and letting it wash over him as he chose, like white noise. He could almost literally feel the life of the ship. The thrum of energy passing along the power conduit directly beneath him. The pulse of the ship that connected everything and that led to the warp core. Like a faint rhythmic tremor deep below him. Always there at his feet, muffled, but now easily felt through the clothes he currently wore. The slightly thinner fabric was similar to the keikogi that many wore during training in Security. Silken, and slightly fur lined. 

The rapid clink and clatter of the knives at the Musashi Lounge on the other side of the wall behind him as the chef prepared another meal for someone. It too was a pulse, a heartbeat of the crew and ship he loved almost as much as he did his mate, Ishkabella, his Seiuri, Sylara, and his children. Laughs from the cafe caught his ears. Revelry and excitement about what they’d do on leave. A deck below him, in the torpedo magazine and launch bay he could hear two crewmen deep in discussion whilst performing a routine inspection. One was certainly Tactical, the other if he had to guess was in Security. Mirthful conversation about their historical heroes, particularly Malcolm Reed. By the time he forced himself to tune them out and focus on something else they had listed no fewer than ten lascivious things they would do to or with the legendary armory officer including three that Toryn was fairly certain were felonies on four planets and logistically complicated. 

The slightly bemused shake of his head broke the otherwise statuesque facade of the Al-Leyan first officer while he meditated. He could hear snippets of Karrod having a conversation with one of their newest additions to the crew in his ready room. Idle conversations on the bridge, and elsewhere before things became a tangled white noise. So far, the farthest he’d managed to clearly hear over the thrums, buzzes and various other sounds of the ship’s systems through the various decks and bulkheads was Deck Eight. 

It was good to hear the crew doing what they always did, getting on with things and pushing through. Though, as he slowly withdrew from his meditations and his lids opened to let those glowing eyes shine in the darkness of the spot he’d chosen, he was somewhat concerned. The reports had been thorough. And while it had been determined fairly early into the crew’s investigations that the crew had not actually witnessed his and Karrod’s actual deaths, they had seen some version of them die. And Toryn understood well the effect that seeing one’s Captain, much less them and the ship’s XO face devastating harm or death had on a crew. 

With a slow and relaxed movement he extricated himself from his meditative posture and rose to his feet, having once more stuffed the padds into the small little satchel he brought them in. It was one he used often during his climbs to carry necessities he had to have easily accessible. 

A quick adjustment to smooth out the wrinkles in his dogi he quietly left the cryogenic compartment with a passing nod towards the crewman when she looked up from her reading. 

((Corridors near 47 Lounge, Starboard Catamaran))

Having descended from the mission pod he entered the catamaran section of the ship and made the rounds. Letting himself be seen. Stopping to converse with every crew member he saw, even if only for a moment in passing. The Al-Leyan made it a point to let himself be seen, to show the crew he was very much alive and they had no reason to grieve beyond the normal that everyone in Starfleet felt when any loss of life occurred. 

Anyone: Response

((ooc: A single open tag for anyone who would like to bump into the XO on his rounds before he has to hunt each of you down. :P))

[Tag/TBC]
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Commander Toryn Raga
First Officer
USS Ronin - NCC-34523
Writer ID: A239410TR0
https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga