Lieutenant JG Meris: The Lecture Never Given
Meris/Brian
((Corridor, Deck 10, USS Thor))
The day after the command tests had concluded, the USS Thor moved with steady purpose through the quiet dark between stars, her course set for Deep Space 14. For most of the crew, the shift in tempo offered a chance to decompress, to settle back into routine after heightened stakes. For Meris, the stillness had seemed to make things louder.
They had not slept well the night before.
The Aenda’s trial lingered at the edges of their thoughts, not as a single memory but as a fracture that refused to fully seal. It bled into everything else. Their return to J’naii. Their guest lecture at the Wendaii Education Center. The quiet lie that they had told Captain Promontory. The version of events they had chosen to present to Trake was clean, contained, and incomplete.
It was also an outright lie. And to their Commanding Officer.
By the time their shift had ended, the conclusion had already formed with the same quiet certainty they applied to helm calculations. They were not functioning within normal parameters. The thought had come to them with all the force of a blow from Mjolnir. That alone had been enough to act on their concerns. An appointment request was submitted. Time was allotted. There would be no further delay.
Deck 10 was active in a subdued way when they arrived, the corridor outside the counseling center carried the low hum of a ship returning to rhythm. Voices passed in brief intervals, the distant movement of personnel filtering between departments. They thought they recognized a few maintenance workres from the shuttlebay and nodded a greeting as they passed. It was not chaotic, not strained, just... normal. Meris paused at the threshold of the Counseling Center for only a moment before stepping inside.
The transition was immediate. The ambient noise of the corridor softened, replaced by a more deliberate quiet shaped by design rather than absence. The reception area was orderly, professional, but not sterile. Choices had been made here to soften the space. Choices that suggested intention rather than necessity. Meris noted them without lingering, their gaze moving with the same quiet precision they brought to their regular duty shifts.
The receptionist looked up as they approached.
Receptionist: Lieutenant. You’re here to see Commander Saa?
Meris gave a small nod, posture straight, hands loosely clasped behind their back.
Meris: I am.
There was no elaboration. None was required. The officer offered a polite acknowledgment and tapped a control on their console, sending notice ahead.
Receptionist: She’s expecting you. You can head on back.
Meris inclined their head in thanks before moving past the desk, following the indicated path deeper into the counseling suites. The layout was efficient, but unlike most of the ship, it invited variation. Doors marked by assignment rather than strict uniformity. Subtle differences in lighting, in tone, in the way each space seemed to hold its own atmosphere even from the corridor. It was intentional and thoughtful, and it stood in quiet contrast to the rigid efficiency of the bridge.
They reached the door to the Head of Health’s office and stopped.
For a moment, they did nothing. No adjustment of uniform, no visible hesitation in posture, but there was a stillness there, a brief recalibration as their thoughts aligned into something presentable. The conclusion remained unchanged. They had made an error. They needed to address it. But how? That was the help they required from Sevantha Saa.
Their hand lifted, and they signaled their arrival via the door chime.
((Sevantha Saa’s Counseling Office, Deck 10, USS Thor))
Saa heard the arrival of the J’naii helmsperson. She looked up from her PADD and offered a warm smile before standing to greet them as they entered through the opening door.
Saa: Good afternoon, Lieutenant, please come in and make yourself comfortable.
Meris stepped inside and paused just beyond the threshold, their eyes adjusting not to the light but to the intent of the room. The space was immediately distinct from the rest of the ship. The soft blue ambient glow, the gentle cascade of the holographic waterfall, the way the air itself seemed quieter here. It was not merely decoration. It was curated. Every element felt deliberate, designed to lower defenses that Meris had not yet decided to relinquish.
Their gaze drifted briefly toward the waterfall, watching the simulated motion of water that made no sound beyond what the program allowed. A controlled environment. Predictable. Adjustable. There was something about that which made sense to them, even if they did not fully trust it. It reminded them just a little bit of home.
Meris: Thank you Commander.
The Thor’s helmsperson returned the greeting if not the warmth with which Saa delivered it. Still, there was an almost imperceptible hint of something around the edge of their eyes and in the corners of their mouth. It suggested that the genderless officer considered a meeting with Saa - even a serious meeting like this one - to be a pleasure.
Saa: I’ve prepared some veacot juice if you’d like a drink. ::gestures towards a replicator:: I also have a replicator in case you’d like a little more personalized beverage, sit where-ever you like. Chair, floor, on the stone meditation pillows next to the waterfall.
The J’naii quirked an eyebrow at the mention of stone pillows.
oO That sounds incredibly unappealing. Oo
Their gaze flicked briefly toward the indicated space, assessing it with the same seriousness they might apply to a tactical console, before dismissing it entirely. Their attention shifted instead to the veacot juice, curiosity edging into their otherwise controlled expression.
Rather than accept a glass immediately, Meris undid the clasp on their duty jacket, allowing it to hang open as they settled into a chair with measured precision.
Meris: I am unfamiliar with veacot juice. It is nice of you to offer it.
Saa: I believe in providing an environment that is comfortable for my visitors, if this one doesn’t suit you, there are several options that provide different spaces. Pink sand beaches, vast golden deserts, mountain trails, fields of bioluminescent flowers at night. ::She smiles:: You’ve scheduled time to come speak your thoughts, and I am here to offer the space to safely and comfortably do so.
Meris’ eyes shifted again, this time not studying the room but considering the implication of choice itself. Environment as variable. Emotional state as something that could be influenced externally. It was a concept they understood intellectually, but there was a quiet resistance to engaging with it. Comfort was not something they had come here to optimize.
oO If the environment is altered, does that change the accuracy of the response? Oo
Meris: That is thoughtful of you.
After a brief pause, the pilot leaned forward and took an empty glass. They poured a small amount of veacot juice into it, swirling it with a level of scrutiny that bordered on scientific analysis. They brought it to their nose, inhaled cautiously, then tilted their head slightly before committing.
They drank it like a shot.
What followed was a remarkably thorough evaluation conducted entirely by their face. Their eyes shifted in sequence, down and to the left, then up and to the left, then up and to the right, and finally down and to the right as they processed the unfamiliar taste. There was a brief moment where it seemed possible they might reconsider their life choices.
Instead, they swallowed.
Meris: ::hoarsely:: It is... s-smooth.
Saa: Response.
Meris set the glass down with careful precision, as though placing it incorrectly might somehow worsen the experience. They shifted in their chair, adjusting their posture in a way that suggested discomfort not entirely related to the beverage.
For a moment, they said nothing.
Their gaze dropped briefly to their hands, then lifted again, focusing somewhere just past Saa rather than directly at her.
Meris: There is something that has been bothering me. During the Aenda mission, and while participating in Commander Kreshkova’s command test, there was little time to think about it. But now that we are on the cusp of shoreleave, and shipboard life has quieted somewhat, the thoughts have started to interfere with my sleep. And as that intrudes upon my duties to the Thor and her crew, it would be irresponsible for me not to seek your assistance for my... problem.
Saa: Response.
Meris inhaled slowly, a measured breath that seemed less about calming themselves and more about committing to the direction of the conversation. When they spoke again, their tone shifted slightly, still controlled but carrying more weight.
Meris: You’re aware of my role here as a kind of cultural ambassador for my people? I was born and raised on J’naii with the intended role of someday replacing my parent as an educator on our homeworld. When I became an adult, I successfully petitioned my parents to allow me to attend Starfleet Academy as a means to further deepen the value I would bring to this future role. Service in Starfleet would give me a greater breadth of knowledge of the galaxy beyond J’naii.
They paused briefly, their gaze unfocused for just a moment.
Meris: It would give me a galactic curriculum upon which to school my future pupils.
Saa: Response.
Meris’ hands shifted slightly in their lap, fingers tightening just enough to betray the tension they otherwise kept contained.
Meris: During our last shoreleave, I returned to J’naii with the knowledge of my first two missions. It was intended to be a kind of... preliminary evaluation. A test of whether my time in Starfleet was adding value to that future role, or if I was simply rationalizing my own - perhaps selfish - choices.
A pause.
Meris: The trip did not go as well as I might have let on.
Another pause, longer this time.
Meris swallowed.
Meris: In fact... not a single student attended my lecture.
Saa: Response.
((Tags/TBC))
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Lieutenant JG Meris
Helmsperson
USS Thor
A240207M14