Realization
Posted on 06 May 2021 @ 11:25pm by Lieutenant Ethan Gunnarsen
Edited on on 08 May 2021 @ 2:13pm
Mission:
M2 - Sanctuary
Location: Promenade
Timeline: MD:03 1240
1943 words - 3.9 OF Standard Post Measure
Ingrid Berg knew she was early to the eatery, but she didn’t mind. The chance to simply sit and observe the myriad of individuals surrounding her was something she had never experienced before – even in the varied society of San Francisco and its Academy attendees. It was one thing to see young people of other races and species coming together for the shared purpose of learning the ins and outs of being an officer; it was quite another to see individuals of different colors and shapes moving about in their own individual fashions. Few who passed by wore a uniform of any sort, and while she knew some could be officers off duty, she liked to imagine each was some visitor from another realm, come to either set up a new life here, or passing on to some other exciting adventure.
Listen to the planet-based simpleton, she teased herself. Even Lark, for all this was only her second assignment, was better acclimated to life away from Sol. To imagine, her little girl grown up and carrying out the duties of an officer. The image fit Ethan: her stepson had been more an adult than a child, even when he was small. True, she had done all she could in their early years together to bring out his smile whenever she could manage. He was an easy boy to love, for all he was quieter than her Christoph. It was good the two had formed a bond, considering how his father …
That had been a misjudgment on Ingrid’s part, and one she had not fully realized until she removed herself, Ethan, and Lark from the home. In the beginning it had truly been a temporary thing. Her optimistic self had imagined Reuben would have the time alone to reflect and come to terms with his feelings. She had not expected the separation papers to come so quickly, and with such little fuss. It wasn’t even that the man she thought had loved her, loved their children, could walk away so easily; the fact that Reuben could turn his back on the son of his first wife without ever once reaching out to him had spoken volumes of the character she had missed behind the façade.
You are going to get yourself worked up, her mind cautioned.
Ethan had contacted her to request this luncheon, saying that he had some things he needed to discuss, and Ingrid wanted to give him a clear and open mind, not one clouded with thoughts of the past. Breathing out slowly, she cleared her emotional palate. And not a moment too soon, as she glanced up to see the familiar figure making his way to her table.
The appointment with Lieutenant Tarelk had been … interesting, to say the least. Granted, it was only the first in what promised to be an ongoing series. It wasn’t every day a guy lived thirty plus years of his life without knowing a whole other part of his being even existed. How had that even happened? How had his father managed to be so convincing that he could suppress that information to the point Ethan didn’t even question the fact once he moved on with his life? Probably something the Lieutenant will want to discuss down the road as well, he mused, seeing as his current task would be learning how to relieve the stress of one hell of a backload of hormones.
He smiled as he looked up to find his stepmother standing and coming to meet him. Some time in his teens Ingrid had gone from a svelte and stately Norse woman to this almost petite being who just reached his chin. He hugged her, enjoying the feel of warm arms embracing him as he always did, and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Thanks. I didn’t know if you’d be tied up with Lark, or …”
“Hst,” Ingrid chided, tapping his nose as she had many times over the years. “You are my son as much as she is my daughter, but she is here with me, and you may be heading out at any time. Of course I would gladly make time for you.” She reached up to brush back an errant lock of hair, taking the chance to peer into the impossibly dark eyes. “Is all well?”
“I suppose.” Ethan moved to take a seat at the table Ingrid had claimed. “How much did Dad ever tell you about my mother?”
Ingrid blinked, the question catching her off guard. Had Ethan somehow anticipated her thoughts? “A bit, why do you ask?” She watched him carefully, large frame folded down into the seat, slouching just a bit as he always seemed to do. She took the seat adjacent to him and willed herself to wait for his answer rather than prod him further.
It took a moment, trying to sort his thoughts into something he could share without his emotions getting in the way. “I had another spell on the ship yesterday.” Ethan heard her quick inhale and knew Ingrid understood. “I was due to check in with Medical anyway, so went on to my appointment. The doctor …” He released a breath, letting the thought trail off before attempting again. “The doctor said that the headaches are a result of my Paracortex being overloaded. I was sure he was wrong, because every specialist I was ever taken to insisted my Paracortex was wholly non-functioning. There’s no way it could generate any Betazoid hormones.
The full import of the words were not quite penetrating, though Ingrid sensed something was right there. It was only at the last … “Your mother was Betazoid.” Reuben had mentioned it once, to explain Ethan’s coloring that was so different from his own ruddy complexion and hazel eyes. The term had meant little to her at the time, other than the knowledge that her stepson was half one species and another. She had assumed these Betazoids were just another people similar enough to Humans not to be too different. She’d learned a bit more since Lark joined the academy. “Your father said she was …” What was the term he had used? “A blank Betazoid. I’ll be honest, Ethan. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant at the time. I’m still not sure.”
“I’m not sure if he was legitimately mistaken, or if he wanted to believe I would be more Human than not. The medical staff on the Theseus said it was possible she never used her abilities around him, or just gave him the impression she had none. But she did. Betazoid children start their hormonal development around age 12 – when my migraines began – and require training to learn how to control and channel their abilities so they don’t cause harm. Doctor Corduke said even a Terran doctor would have recognized that I had a functioning paracortex at the time, that the headaches were a common sign. Either the doctor wasn’t truly doing his job, or Dad convinced him to tell me they were just headaches. The medication he put me on was a suppressant; I finally got to a point that there was simply too much to suppress.
Ingrid was silent as she took it in. The resistance to flight lessons, when Ethan’s mother had been a pilot. And now this … “Was it dangerous? Did these suppressants cause harm?”
Ethan let out his breath, but he shook his head all the same. “They didn’t help, but the doctor and the counselor both assure me there was no significant damage. It just means I’ll have a longer time building the Paracortex to a stage that it can manage to keep things leveled out. Until then, I have to meet with Lieutenant Tarelk for regular sessions to learn other ways of managing the overflow. She wants me to go off the medication – she said that she would be able to help manage the migraines until I was able to do the task myself.”
No significant damage. Which did not say that no damage at all had been rendered. “And if you had remained on the suppressants? Ethan, the headaches were getting worse, you said.”
“Not because of the drugs,” He assured her. “Or … rather, I guess because the drugs were no longer able to do what they were meant to – suppress the hormone development while managing the headaches.” Ethan smiled. “I don’t think my head would have exploded, but I probably would have ended up resigning my commission in a few years since anything stronger would have required me to step down from active flight duty.”
“He should be shot,” Ingrid snapped, eyes blazing.
“Mom!” Ethan stared at her, surprised at the vehemence in her tone.
“Ethan, this has been going on for twenty years and it could have been fixed before it ever became a problem? That’s wrong. How could he do that to his own son? Surely he knew it was hurting you.”
He wanted to argue; to say that perhaps the first doctor had assured his father the drugs would help. But what about the others? He lost count of how many different doctors had he seen, and all with the same results? “Anyway, it’s happened, and now it’s getting fixed. Not like there’s anything he can do to change the past now.” Or the present, for that matter.
The mother in her wanted to fight, to get to the bottom of how such a thing had gone on and she’d been none the wiser. Ingrid had trusted Reuben to do the right thing for his son; she should have taken a more active part in the appointments instead of accepting what he told her after coming home each time. “I wonder what Teri would say if she knew this happened.”
“Teerlori.” Ethan shifted in his seat. “Dad never kept anything of hers, always called her Teri, but when I started looking into the attack, I learned the Flight Chief had been a Lieutenant Teerlori Ohaxir. I always wondered about my middle name; it made no sense until then, and now I’m kinda surprised he didn’t try and change that as well.”
Ingrid reached across to lay a hand atop his. “Well he didn’t, and you at least have that.” And if she had anything to do about it, he would have more than that. Surely there was information out there about this Teerlori Ohaxir. Family from her side who might be interested in meeting their daughter’s child. “So, you have appointments with a counselor; other than that, how do you like your position?”
Ethan snorted; it was Ingrid’s habit to shift gears at the point of conflict. Not so much to avoid a difficult discussion, but often to give herself time to reflect and come to terms before addressing it again later on. “Interesting. Apparently I’m replacing a CFO who didn’t realize he was being promoted to another position, and I’m half-certain the XO is less than pleased with the exchange. I don’t think she’ll try to poison me in my sleep.”
If it weren’t for the quirk of a smile, Ingrid would almost think he truly meant that last remark. “Well, you’ll just have to charm her into liking you. I’m sure you can manage that just fine.”
The smirk widened into a genuine grin. “We’ll see. Enough about me, though, how are you liking the station?”
