Cinnamon Sympatico

Posted on 11 Jun 2023 @ 12:18pm by Lieutenant Ethan Gunnarsen & Chief Petty Officer Ibis Xeri

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Mess Hall, Pathfinder
Timeline: MD10 - 2125
2017 words - 4 OF Standard Post Measure

Ethan had been released to his quarters with instructions to return the next day - apparently he wasn’t cleared for flight until Corduke released him. At the moment, the Pathfinder had a pilot, so his presence on deck wasn’t critical; all the same, he’d slept most of the day and really didn’t feel like locking down for the night just yet. Thus, he found himself wandering into the Mess with a mind to hunt down something to eat and kill time.

He was pulling a chai from the replicator when his gaze settled on a vaguely familiar form off to the side, and decided to make a closer inspection. The woman hadn’t come with them on the mission. Granted, Ethan was primarily stationed to the Theseus, but he was more or less familiar with a good majority of the station crew, and he could swear he hadn’t seen her board. Which left only one option. “Ah … mind if I join you?”

Her distant look suddenly refocused on the voice to the side and she turned to find a young man with a hot drink standing there. It was a long awkward moment before her thinking caught up to process that he’d asked something and then to repeat it back to herself, before she shook her head as if unsticking a gear. “Oh. I think so. I mean of course. Yes, please sit down.” She resettled herself to face him instead of the view port as he took up a chair.


Chuckling, Ethan took a seat across from her. His gaze fell on her cup, noting the level and lack of steam. “Looks like you’ve been here for a while. Do you like chai? Nothing special about it, just standard brew - or I can get you something else if you’d like.”

“No, I … chai is something, yes, I used to drink, sometimes.”

Sliding the cup over in front of her, Ethan took the empty and stood. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, before heading back to the replicator to dispose of the empty cup and get a new drink for himself. Upon returning, he noted she was still more or less in her own world. It gave him a moment to study her profile, trying to put memory to the image but still coming up blank until the answer came to him in a flash of remembered pain. The refugees - the ones who the Commander had beamed aboard when the shields were dropped. He shook his head ruefully. “I’m Ethan, by the way. Ah … Lieutenant Ethan Gunnarsen,” he offered, as if it would clarify anything.

“Hello, Ethan.” She said, trying on a smile. She looked somehow confused that she was no longer holding her last cup, before she worked out that the new one was for her. “Oh.” Ibis sheepishly gathered the warm mug. “Thank you.” She sniffed, not fully able to anticipate the smell of cinnamon until the scent itself reopened her memory and came flooding back.

“Not a problem. I’ve got long legs and can usually make good speed if I’m not tripping over myself.”

She sipped the chai, still more absorbed in the flavor experience than anything. She sighed appreciatively over the cup and huffed the steam away, before she looked up again at her company. “Sorry, I’m so rude, I forgot. You told me your name. I’m Ibis, CPO Ibis Xeri.”

“Stille vand har den dybe grunde.” Ethan lifted his cup. “I think the Standard is ‘Still waters run deep.’ No worries; I think I interrupted your musings, so no offense.” He played the name over in his mind. “Xeri … That’s Betazoid, yes?” It fit her, with the dark hair and - when she did glance up - midnight eyes.

“Yes,” she perked up. “It’s an old house, from the eastern isles.” Then she made a bit of a face again, chiding herself internally for suddenly sounding like her own mother. “But I grew up on Earth.”

“Same here.” Ethan ran a thumb along the rim of his cup. Granted, I’m only half. My mother … I think her family name was Ohaxir? Honestly, I don’t remember much about her so I couldn’t tell you much about her family.”

“You don’t remember your mother?” Ibis prompted with a note of cautious curiosity.

“Nah. I was … four, almost five, I think. My mother was the Chief Flight officer on the USS Bellerophon. She went down with the ship while my dad got us out on an escape shuttle. I … get flashes now and then - not as much as I used to. Most of what I learned of her - of the ship - I picked up in school and later at the Academy. Dad never really talked about her much.”

She thought of Ikemba. Maybe being so young he could eventually forget the island. But for a betazoid to forget his own mother? “Very strange.” Ibis said reflexively. Then she realized she had to explain. “With the telepathic bond, Betazoids, we usually are closest with our mothers starting from the womb. Whether we like it or not later in life. There’s a lot written about how it’s likely the foundation of the originally matriarchal rites and institutions.”

Ethan exhaled. “My dad … he wanted to put everything behind him. Never spoke well of the Fleet after that and never mentioned her when I was around.” He debated saying more - about the suppressants when his abilities started developing - and decided against it. “If it wasn’t for my step-mom, I’d probably have forgotten her completely.” He smiled at that. “Kinda busts all the evil step-mom tropes, really. She’s the one that encouraged me to fly, and then to join the Fleet.”

Ibis absorbed his life story with the cinnamon essence as she mulled that over. She knew about hurt widowers, and she knew about filling in for missing mothers. “You became a starfleet officer and a pilot. So in the end you did follow in your mother’s footsteps. Maybe you remember more than you think.”

“Or it just felt right. My dad would probably say I did it simply out of spite.” He sipped his tea, regarding her a moment before asking, “What got you in?”

“In what?”

Ethan snorted. “Fleet. What got you interested into signing up for this?”

“Oh. My mom.” She gave a crooked little devil’s smile. “She wanted me to become a society girl, or a holovid maven, or a renowned cellist like her. I enlisted to escape all of the pressure. But that was a long time ago. She doesn’t even know I’m alive, yet.” She wondered if her parents would be there anymore and the thought would have been a heavy one, except it wasn’t the first time she had wondered about it.

He arched a brow at that. “You ditched fame and fortune, then. You plan on telling her, or just waiting to see what happens?” Ethan’s expression softened some. “You probably still have a lot to process yourself - throw estranged family in the mix and the whole thing could blow up in your face.”

“We’re not back into communications range yet, I was told. I’m sure if there’s anyone to hear it, the news will reach them.” She took another timid sip. “Of course I’ll talk to my family. We’re an odd lot, but I love them. I just don’t know what to say that won’t be about the strangest thing and leave us all idling or babbling.” The thought made her both happy and profoundly sad, for all of the other family who wouldn’t get the strange awkward call from the rest of the Sunrise crew.

“Pretty sure once they get past the babbling, they’ll be glad to have you back.” He tried to think how his family would take his disappearance and a niggling thought told him his father had probably already written him off. Ingrid, though, and Lark - even Chris would be waiting for news. “So … you’re settling a bit at least?”

She looked back out at space and the lights trailing over the shield bubble. “It’s very strange. I feel like I’m home, but at the same time that everything is unreal. Like I’ve lost something, a terrible something, that left me…” she motioned over herself as if there was a word missing for it “This way.”

Ethan regarded her, not quite picking up what she was implying. She was thin - drastically so - and he didn’t have a lot of experience to know just how much she might have physically changed. Still, he imagined the ‘something lost’ went a good deal deeper than the physical. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it before shaking his head with a bemused laugh. “Sorry - it’s probably a good thing I went into flight and not counseling.”

“I take it you didn’t develop the empathic sense, then.” Ibis had been assuming maybe her lack of words would have been made up for by his partially Betazoid heritage. But not everyone who had the genes had the additional empathic sense. She was able to draw charts of the likelihood thanks to her training in genetics.

“I’m … developing? It’s weird. I mean, it was there I just - couldn’t access it until a short time ago. I’m still learning how it all works.”

“The latest bloomer I ever heard of,” she said before she realized that was probably insensitive. She covered by adding a jibe at herself. “ But I’ve gone telepathically deaf and dumb, so. I’m not one to talk.”

Ethan blinked at that. He might not have a depth of understanding when it came to his own abilities, but the thought of being stripped of what had been an integral part of one’s existence … “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That … really doesn’t seem a lot to say to something like …” He shook his head. “Is there any possibility of it ever returning?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged her scrawny shoulders. “Maybe a specialist can tell me. I haven’t had any inkling of it since I was first sick on the island. It’s been almost nine years, almost as long as we were stranded,” Ibis said as if she should be used to it by now.

It was a lot to take in. “I hope they’re able to help you,” Ethan murmured. What form that help would take, he had no idea.

She sipped, not responding right away. It seemed like she’d already gotten more than she could hope for. Even Wallace looked like he would recover. “I think whatever happens, it will be okay.”

Ethan grinned at that, somewhat chagrined, and lifted his cup. “Sounds like,” he offered as he finished off what remained. “In the meantime, the Commander tells me we still have a few days before we get back to the station. Looks like I have some time on my hands until medical clears me to fly again, so … ah … I may not be the best at giving advice, but I’m pretty good at listening.”

“It’s been a long time since I made any new friends.” She smiled. “It’s really good to meet you.”

Noting her cup was empty as well, Ethan stood up. “Why don’t I get us a refill. Same thing as before?”

“No.” When he looked uncertain if she was rejecting his offer and potential continued company, Ibis amended. “Mint,” she said. “I miss mint.”

“Mint,” Ethan nodded. “I can do mint.” With that he headed off once again. Glancing back as he stood at the replicator, he figured a few more drinks was preferable to stewing in his quarters. A smile quirked at his mouth. Far more preferable.