TEST DRIVE #3 - Alien Bazaar/Ten Forward

[tenforward_m]

#1

Option 001. Alien planet, marketplace: So you're new to this whole space travel thing. The ship is cool and all, but there are hundreds of alien worlds out there. You want to explore. To see what the universe REALLY looks like.

Well, here's your chance! Your first stop is this lovely indoor marketplace, which looks kind of like a mall. There are stalls one after the other as far as the eye can see, and they sell all kinds of things: food, clothes, trinkets, animals, fabrics, jewelry, perfumes, books, etc etc. Some things look human, easy to recognize; other things look very alien. There are two levels, and constant chatter as people hawk their wares and discuss prices.

Do you want to explore? Poke at the weird shops? Buy a gift for a new friend? Flirt with someone at the food court? Maybe you see a pickpocket, and must run to the aid of the victim. Maybe there's some other villainy afoot. After all, a crowded marketplace is a good place for villains to lurk, causing trouble. Whether you're a hero or just an unassuming traveler, there proves to be some adventure for you on this planet.


2

Option 002. Aboard the Enterprise, Ten Forward: You have no idea what just happened. One minute you were home, and now you're on a spaceship, in the middle of a crowded room. It looks like a bar. There are people eating and drinking, some in uniform, others not. Some are clearly aliens.

You've managed to land in Ten Forward a long bar with barstools and a bartender, tables sprinkled throughout, and the far wall is nothing but windows out to space. It looks like a nice lounge, low conversation making the room hum.

Better ask some questions and find out where you are, or just tap the closest person on the shoulder and try to make friends. The bar is open.

Comments

[aehallh]

It pleases her, unexpectedly, to hear him use the right name for her world, as opposed to the one the Federation named it out of ignorance. Romulus makes little sense to her, even knowing the Terran story from which it originates. She inclines her head to him, briefly, in acknowledgement.

"As far as I'm aware," she allows; she's not certain why he's asking, other than as a result of his own curiosity. "And possibly that is for the best. I imagine the fewer potential diplomatic incidents Starfleet may have to deal with, the better." There's a faint dry amusement in her voice, though it dissipates quickly.

And she doesn't exactly want to be here, either, but for now, she has little choice. Irian rests both her hands on the back of the empty chair opposite him, a slight relaxation of her very military posture, but still makes no move to seat herself there.

"I am Commander Irian t'Aumne of the warbird Bloodwing," she says, by way of introduction, "and as estranged from my ship as you are from yours. I've been told we have been brought here by an entity called Q as part of some sort of... game." She says the word as if it tastes badly. Irian does not in the slightest enjoy being toyed with.

[emotional_security]

"I was merely attempting to make sense of this entity's selection process," Spock informs her. "At present, I am neither a Starfleet officer nor a diplomat, but a pawn to be moved at another's will. Like yourself."

Rising smoothly to his feet, Spock stands at ease, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. "Won't you join me, Commander?" he asks, his eyes never leaving hers. "I believe we now share more than a common ancestry."

[aehallh]

He's right — unfortunately — and she bridles a little at the reminder that she is as trapped here as he, despite the fact that she'd just spoken of it herself. Irian would like to find this Q and show him just what she thinks of being treated like a toy for his amusement, although she has an idea that that might end poorly for her; still, she cannot help the way she feels.

The tension dissipates from her posture after that brief moment, though, as she regains that carefully constructed self-assured composure. She watches him as he stands; unlike the other Romulan Commander he's met, she is quite tall — they're of a height, in fact, and she meets his eyes evenly. Her look in response to his invitation goes a little cagey, but it's a courteous request — she would expect nothing less, from a Vulcan — and she nods in response. It isn't as if she didn't approach him out of her own volition, after all.

"If you would like," she answers. There's a moment before she adds, "You must have questions — I'm not sure I can answer all of them myself. I have only been here for a few days."

And there are some she would not answer, should they veer into the personal — but Spock is Vulcan, and if nothing else, she knows she may rely on his discretion.

[emotional_security]

He notices the way she matches his posture and meets his eyes on a level, but apart from a brief flash of assertiveness, Spock takes this stance to mean that the Commander no longer views him as a threat.

"Indeed, I have many questions," he agrees, lowering himself back into his seat.
"My dealings with the Rihan have been necessarily limited, certainly at the point of time from which I was brought here, but I am curious to learn how you know of me."

He is thinking of the other female commander again, but knows the answer is probably temporal rather than personal.

"Have you been brought forward or back in time to this place?"

[aehallh]

Following his lead, she pulls out the chair on the other side of the table, sitting down and folding her hands across her lap, keeping her back straight. Someone happens by at that moment to see if either of them want anything to drink; she asks only for a glass of water. Irian suspects that someone would find a way to produce Rihannsu ale for her if she asked politely enough, contraband though it is on a Federation vessel, but now doesn't seem the time; and human alcoholic beverages, the only other sort she's tried, are almost tasteless by comparison. So water it is.

His first inquiry elicits a slight, dry smile that is gone almost as quickly as it appears. It's easy enough to tell that, while she doesn't have a Vulcan's perfectly studied calm, she isn't an effusive woman, either. "That," she says, "is quite a question, and one with more than one answer." She leaves it at that, for the time being, apparently content not to be more forthcoming unless he presses her. There's no reason to give away everything she knows at once, after all.

The server comes back with her water, and she takes it with a polite acknowledgement, cradling the cool glass between both her hands.

"As for your question of time: this is the past, for me. Forty-three years in the past."

And how many years in his future, she wonders? How much of what she has been told about the Spock in her timeline will hold true for him?

[emotional_security]

Spock wonders who is most out of place: a Romulan - he thinks, but does not speak, the Federation nomenclature for her people - on board a Starfleet vessel, or a Starfleet officer on the right ship, but of the wrong generation?

"Then that answers my question, Commander," he announces, giving voice to his thoughts. "I am Spock of the USS Enterprise, granted, but you have the advantage of over 140 accumulated years of intergalactic history and diplomacy between my time and yours."

The server returns to check if Spock has decided on a beverage. He asks for valerian tea, mirroring his companion's sober tastes.

"May I ask - if I am not testing your patience or monopolising the conversation - how relations stand between our respective cultures in your time?"

[aehallh]

Logically, Irian is aware of approximately how much time lies between them, but hearing the number aloud still staggers her a little. She takes a drink from her water glass, partly as something to do while she considers her answer to his question, and partly because her throat feels suddenly quite dry.

She dislikes sharing too much information; it's both a cultural trait and one she learned working in an occupation where the right words overheard by the wrong person could cost one one's life. On the other hand, what he's asking is common knowledge in her time: 'safe' information that she doesn't need to feel too reticent about giving away. All the same, she bides her time for a moment, letting him wait while she thinks about how to word her response.

"They are far better than they have been in many years," she says finally. "But at great cost."

She pauses, and her brows arch slightly, an expression a bit like one he might wear. "I've heard Starfleet has regulations regarding discussion of future events. Perhaps I should avoid saying any more."

And perhaps she is seeing if he'll ask her to provide details regardless.

[emotional_security]

Spock has great respect for diplomacy, but if the Commander is aware of his reputation, then she must know he would never personally betray her trust. And he is not here in an official capacity, as he has already indicated to her.

"I am currently as far removed from Starfleet as you are from Ch'Rihan," Spock prompts her. "Despite appearances to the contrary," he adds, indicating the distinctive uniforms of the ship's crew all about them.

The server returns, setting down Spock's glass of fragrant Valerian tea before him. Spock waits for him to leave before continuing.

"I am not asking you to speak unwisely, but as a Vulcan, learning that time has done much to heal old wounds would be greatly encouraging."

[aehallh]

Even if she were not aware of his reputation individually, she knows the reputation of Vulcans in general; they are not, on the whole, an untrustworthy people. But Irian has great difficulty trusting anyone, and perhaps it is even more difficult for her given that his reputation among her people specifically is rather mixed.

"I imagine that it would," she says, somewhat cautiously. "But, as I've said, there was a great cost."

For the first time in the conversation, she looks away from him entirely, glancing down at the table. When he said she was far removed from her world, he was right, in more than one sense — and it pains her, unexpectedly. More so for the fact that she cannot go back, for any reason.

"Some twenty years ago in my time, there was a great disaster that destroyed ch'Rihan and ch'Havran. Those of us who survived split into two factions. One, which seeks to rebuild the Empire as it was, and one which would choose a different path from what the Empire had become."

She pauses, and looks back up at him.

"Those of us in the latter faction have formed our own government. The Federation has chosen to give us aid —" Her look goes a little wry. "— as have the Klingons."

Strange, how it often takes such great disaster to bring their people together. It always has.

[emotional_security]

After a particularly long contemplative silence, Spock bows his head in a gesture of submission.

"Commander, you were correct to remind me of Starfleet protocol," he admits, still trying to process the future destruction of two planets. "I have no right to question you further - you have endured great suffering with honour."

[aehallh]

Irian shakes her head slightly. "It was my choice to answer," she says. She pauses a moment, then adds, more softly, "But your words are well meant, and for that I thank you."

Her shoulders straighten, almost imperceptibly, though Spock with his Vulcan intuition will likely notice. Honor — that was the right word to use. Irian was raised in one of the old Rihannsu families, the ones who still believed honor and nobility were things to strive for, not to be thrown aside in the name of expediency, power or fear. Whether or not she has kept that honor over the course of her life is, as her people would say, for the Elements to decide — but she would like to believe she has some small scrap of it left. If nothing else, she certainly has her pride.

"And as for you," she says, changing the topic deftly — clearly the events of her own time period are a thing she no longer wishes to discuss, at least not so openly, "what are conditions in the galaxy like for you?" Irian has studied twenty-third century history, naturally, and she knows a little bit about the Enterprise and her five year mission — from an admittedly biased perspective — but it's different to speak with someone who has lived through those events. She settles back a little in her chair, appearing casual, though the look may be a little deceptive; she may have begun to grow used to this place, over the past several days, but she knows better than to let her guard drop too far.

[emotional_security]

Questions about the 'past' are no easier to answer than being asked about the future, but Spock accepts this reversal of roles as his due. The Commander seems slightly more relaxed now, at any rate, though he knows that the warrior is never far beneath the mask of the emissary.

"My role on board the Enterprise is chiefly scientific, and therefore exploring the galaxy is both a challenge and a privilege," he answers blandly. "As the only Vulcan serving with four hundred and twenty nine humans, I am also faced daily with a similar personal incongruity, but I have learned to adapt."