“Cyrin & ‘Kara: Charon’s Bonnie and Clyde”
Part IX
(Continued)
=/\= Sakarra’s Quarters, 9.2 Hours Later =/\=
“That’s what a mind touch is supposed to be like?” He asked her, though he was still withholding from reaching out. He was actually a bit envious of her. He watched as the memory faded into the blackness. “Though I will admit I am very surprised that you shared a memory with me of you laughing. You should do it more often Sakarra.” He said giving her a subtle hint. He couldn’t help but smile to himself that a Vulcan found him puzzling, “Do you find me worse than learning kal-toh?” He asked waiting, for what he didn’t know.
“That was only one of the near infinite ways it can be, Cyrin. But yes, it is ‘supposed’ to be an experience based on mutual respect, if nothing else. At best, it becomes the delight of sharing in each other’s diversity, which is at the heart of Vulcan philosophy.”
It certainly was not easy to let him see such deeply personal things, but the young woman’s ingrained sense of fairness insisted that it was only right and proper.
“Share my amusement more often? Perhaps. But like sadness or joy, humor can be a delicately personal matter which most Vulcans prefer to show only to a select few people.” she stated levelly.
“As for kal-toh, it is inherently logical, so one can hardly compare it to a living, sentient being. But yes, more often than not I do find both human and Betazoid behavior confusing. As for a hybrid who rarely behaves even within parameters which I might be able to comprehend… suffice it to say, kal-toh is hardly challenging by comparison.”
Cyrin nodded not sure if this was a good thing or not. “Then I will consider myself special, and your ‘memory’ is safe with me…I hope.” He meant it too. Personal memories were just that…personal. Just like he knew she would share with no one what she had seen and might even see, he too would give her the same courtesy. He watched as the black mist was slowly starting to fade, yet it was still there…still black. He didn’t want to continue, or at least a part of him didn’t, the other part was wanting to fight through this danger and come out on the other side, intact, and with his empathic ability back.
“You should, Cyrin Dicari.” There was more than a little gentle humor in her voice now, as she studied the young Betazoid. Special indeed.
He was still focused on the darkness surrounding them, both wanting to face it and afraid to do so.
“If not now, when?” Sakarra indicated the swirling clouds, many of them already retreating and losing their power, others lingering but much less menacing than they had been but a brief while before.
“There is a pyllora by your side, a guide if you will, and quite frankly, you have little left to lose. Logic alone would dictate that you finish what you started, but then again I may be the wrong person to give you advice on this. My own approach to dealing with fear and adversity tends to be quite … direct, as you have experienced earlier.”
Tilting her head thoughtfully, the young woman reminded herself that Betazoids found it more helpful to gently lead a person into the water instead of plunging in while dragging the other along.
“The choice must still be yours.”
“The choice. So far these memories have just come in unannounced. I am not sure which one will-” No sooner did he not get to finish the sentence than did another memory swirled into place. Cyrin let out an exasperated sigh… partially in annoyance and partially in the unknown. As it formed, the image was of a much much younger Cyrin, around the age of five years old.
They were on Medera, Betazed. Cyrin’s father and mother, both younger looking, were there. They were gathered at the door of their domicile.
“Dawwy pwease dwon go!” Cyrin scream, tears falling from his face and onto his mothers shoulder. “You pwomised you would take me to go-go-go…” he couldn’t finish the sentence as a new series of sobs engulfed him.
“Now Cy-Cy, you promised you would be a big boy.” Pierre said touching his sons head. “It is only going to be for a few days. Then I will take you camping.”
Cyrin tried to move his head from his father’s touch, “You wied to me.” He said in a meek voice.
“Now sweetie, daddy did not lie to you. You know he has an important position. Plus we get to go on a new adventure!” His mother chimed in rubbing his back.
“Cy-Cy I will be back in a few days, I promise.” Pierre took a pin off of his clothes and pinned it on Cyrin shirt. It was the Galaxy Cluster medal. “Daddy will be back for that Cy-Cy.” He said leaning down and kissing the top of Cyrin’s head before turning to his wife, “Take care of him mon amour.”
“I will imzadi, I will,” she said leaning forward to give her husband a kiss.
Cyrin turned and watched his father leave, his thoughts were clear, his father was always leaving him.
The memory paused, and Cyrin looked over to Sakarra. “I don’t understand,” was all he could say. This might not have been a happy memory, “How is this memory traumatic?” he asked confused.
“Maybe not traumatic in itself,” Sakarra could not help but let her gaze linger on the landscape for a few seconds. Familiar trees under a gentle sky with pink, feathery clouds and in the distance, the high peaks of Vathax.
“And yet, loss appears to be a recurring theme, no? Despite all reassurances, you experienced being left as traumatic.”
Looking towards the child in Cyrin’s memory, the young Vulcan shook her head sadly.
“They do not come unannounced as much as your subconscious mind is summoning them. Consciously denying yourself to feel an emotion does not make it go away, it will simply make itself heard in other ways. And now that you allow them to, the memories rise to the surface at last.”
If there was one thing the child Sakarra had never feared, it was her mother leaving. After all, there was nothing in the universe that could stop T’Sora from coming back. The only question there had ever been was the ‘when’, the ‘if’ had never even occurred. Until the day this absolute certainty had been shattered.
“Once you know your fear however, it loses it’s power, Cyrin Dicari. Your fear of losing your father when he fell ill may well tie in with your experience of him leaving so many times before, when you were powerless to prevent it. But knowing it gives you a choice. Will you cling to the fear and remain helpless or accept it and move beyond? There is no shame in being afraid to lose. There is only the question of where that fear will take you.”
The mountains seemed so close, as they always did when a storm was building over the Alarmante sea, and Sakarra turned towards the house that little Cyrin had lived in years ago. Details were missing in this memory, but her own recollection of this part of Betazed provided scents and sounds that gave the scenery a touch of bittersweet melancholy.
“You do not believe they worry about you, now that it is you who has taken wing and gone beyond the edges of explored space? There is comfort in knowing that those back home think of you. But would you wish for them to suffer every day until you return? Or would you rather that they let go of fear and simply feel joy for you?”
“So you are saying I fear losing that which I cannot control?” he asked perplexed. “I don’t wish them to suffer anymore than I do by being so far away from them. I do know they are joyful at their only son doing something great. I was the first Dicari to ever serve in Starfleet as an officer. My father comes from a long line of diplomats.” He was unsure why he had just shared that with her, but to take it back, it was too late.
He looked at his younger self before turning back to Sakarra. “My subconscious is controlling what I see?” he asked “But these memories have been lose and pain, but with lose comes pain does it not?” He asked yet another question.
“So it does.” the young Vulcan nodded solemnly.
“What has created the imbalance in your case is that the pain has become more powerful than the love you feel. One can exist in such a state of mind, live one can not.”
Sighing deeply, Sakarra turned her entire focus on the Betazoid, sensing both the confusion and sadness he radiated and the deep affection underneath.
“Kaiidth, Cyrin Dicari. Nothing can diminish what I feel for the people I have lost. Or those I will inevitably lose in the time to come. They are a part of my identity, inseparable, from now until my Katra disperses into nothingness. My fear of losing them and the inevitable pain will not change anything. I can only accept it, as I accept the gift that those I love exist. One cannot be without the other, but it is my choice to focus on the latter. For their sake as well as mine.”
“Then what does the hatred have to do with all of this?” As he asked the question the memory before them faded away to be replaced by another memory, a fifteen year old Cyrin in a hallway of what could only have been his high school. Cyrin was standing by a door as three other men walked up to him.
“Cryin’ Cyrin…miss your da da?” one of the boys asked mocking Cyrin by producing a fake cry face.
“I do-” Cyrin started to say as another boy slammed him against the wall and the other punched Cyrin in the gut.
“You speak only when spoken to, you half-breed scum!” The guy who punched Cyrin hissed.
Cyrin crumpled to the floor, pain shot through his face. His black eyes reflecting the images of the three boys.
“Your kind should be subservient to us humans, you think with your telepathetic excuses you can get away invading other’s minds and emotions,” with that came a kick to his side and something wet falling from his head as another one of the boys had spit on him.
“I do no such thing.” Cyrin pleaded.
“Liar!”
“Yeah you’re a liar!”
“Yeah lying sack of half-breed scum!”
Came the replies of all three of them as he felt another kick come from the opposite side. He just sat there and let them beat on him, his face bloodied from a broken nose, his sides bruised beyond recognition, and all the while anger and hatred surged in him as he watched two humans and Klingon continue to treat him as if he was scum.
Cyrin watched the memory unfold, even watching it hatred began to form in him. Images of Shiarrael bounced back and forth in his mind, he was beaten again…
She noticed the surge of hatred as soon as the images resolved themselves, and it only grew in intensity. Hardly unexpected, but unhealthy all the same.
Not that Sakarra herself was immune to the effects of that memory, but by now she had her temper under control. Well, for the most part. Very briefly, she entertained the thought of how those three might have liked to try such an approach with someone more inclined to … stand her ground. Alright, maybe do a bit more than that. Just a bit.
“The old half-breed insult.” She said shaking her head, trying not to show too much of how pitiful she found the display “One should think people could have thought of something better by now. They do not deserve your hatred, Cyrin Dicari, although it is possible they would relish in it.”
Glancing at the three, Sakarra waved a hand in dismissal “They said it themselves. They were afraid of you. Not only because you can see what they cannot, but because you are different, inexplicable. Fear breeds hatred. Will you allow yourself to be like them, to hate what you fear?”
As it had before, the lingering image of Shiarrael t’Rehu showed itself and dispersed again.
“Is it truly she you fear, or that which she might do? Do you even know who and what she is? Or are you assuming and projecting, as those three did when you were just as helpless as you feel now?”
=/\=
Lieutenant (Then Ensign) Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helms-Vulcan
U.S.S. Charon
&
=/\=
Ensign Cyrin Dicari
Chief Operations Officer
U.S.S. Charon
