An Echo of Mania

Posted on Wed Jun 22nd, 2011 @ 1:19pm by Lieutenant Commander Aral Aix
Edited on on Sun Jun 26th, 2011 @ 4:27pm

Mission: Too Close for Comfort...
Location: Runabout Phoenix
Timeline: Following 'Questions'

The sparse conversation that had permeated the air on the Phoenix had dried up, as each member of the away team attended to their consoles or cultural briefings on Archadians. Aral had spent five minutes admiring the architecture and town planning in their capital cities, not so much for its aesthetic appeal (which was arguable) but its originality of design and construction. He had to keep busy when on runabouts, transports, shuttles - their impersonal, beige, surroundings always brought back echoes of an old mania.

=Aft Observation Deck, Civilian Transport en route to Earth=
=2370=

An awkward teenager with dark hair and eyes sat hugging his knees. He was consciously ignoring the other passengers and had fixed his eyes on the starscape as it flew past the window; this was his first time on a starship, the first time he had left Trill, and he was alone. At the age of seventeen Aral was a bright, if unfocused, young man, full of testosterone and a wiry sort of energy that found its expression at inopportune moments. Tired of his antics, six months earlier, his parents and teachers had joined forces and pushed him into the Starfleet Academy admissions test. A few months later he had received an invitation for interview. In Aral's view the receipt of an invitation was one thing, its acceptance another thing entirely. His mother had threatened, pleaded and cajoled him onto that transport. Had she not explained the situation to the airhostess and requested a suitable restraint applied, Aral would have happily tried his luck at the emergency airlock during take-off.

At first he had been seated next to an old woman, one of two other Trill aboard. She had attempted to make conversation, asked him where he was going, what books he had read, had he a girlfriend, what he wanted to do with his life. Although her questions were friendly there was something to them he found unsettling; they were precise, sharp and her interest in his responses was - in his opinion - far too great for polite conversation. Having escaped her company he had spent most of the journey alone, watching the stars fly past and contemplating whether he wanted a future among them. At the interview he would perform - he always did for occasions - but within him there was a deep ambivalence. Aral preferred his other option, studying mathematics at the University of Risa, unsurprisingly his mother was not of the same mind.

Aral had been contemplating the positives and positives of going to the University of Risa for at least twenty minutes, he had read the prospectus enough times to commit it to memory, when he was approached by a middle-aged Trill woman. She was tall - easily 6 feet - and slender. Her eyes were an electric blue and her hair was an untamed shock of grey. "You are Aral Doran?" Her voice was firm but she spoke with warmth.

"Yes" Aral replied studying her face, it was twisted into a pained expression. For all there was sympathy in her eyes, her teeth were clenched. She wanted something and he knew she would get it. "... that's me."

Uninvited she sat herself beside him. "My name is Dr Kara Pela, I am part of the Medical Faculty at Starfleet Academy." Aral looked at her blankly, whatever effect she hoped her introduction would have it obviously lacked. She continued. "I have something... sensitive to discuss with you and there isn't much time."

Dr Pela explained that the other Trill onboard had suffered a heart attack; that she was joined and the symbiont had survived. Aral's knees staretd to tremble as she explained the vessel was without the proper storage containers and that the symbiont would not last until the transport reached Earth. She held his hand firmly as she explained that the symbiont needed to be joined. "I would volunteer myself," she said, placing her free hand on her abdomen, "but I am already joined." She sighed. "You are the only option," she paused, "and I am sorry."

Two hours later Aral opened his eyes and he was a different person.

=Runabout Phoenix=
=Present=

Aral was distracted from his reading by a recurrent bleeping noise towards the fore of the runabout. Abandoning his PADD on his lap he swivelled in his chair and peered forwards. All he could see was the Commodore and Lieutenant diligently tapping away at their consoles. Returning to his station Aral busied himself with a sensor sweep.