There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair!
(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
=/\= Eris Deck =/\=
One of the first things that Brent had done was go see Sakarra to make sure that she was alright during the recent encounter with the Romulans. Normally he wouldn't have cared as much, but from his experience and notice, Starfleet consoles loved to explode on unsuspecting Fleet Officers. After Brent had eased his mind that his love was not in the infirmary, he discovered that she would be off duty in an hour. They agreed to meet in Eris Deck in the lounge at their usual table. Brent had arrived a few minutes early as per usual and had beaten Sakarra to their table.
Brent had begun to look around when he had spotted the Vulcan from the Temp'Shar a few tables over. He appeared to be finishing off a drink at that moment. Brent couldn't tell if he had a companion with him or not and so Brent had his waitress deliver another of what the Vulcan had been drinking to the man on his behalf. After the waitress had brought Brent a glass of scotch on the rocks she made the delivery to the Vulcan who turned to see who had delivered it. Brent raised his glass in remembrance of the promise that he had made to the Vulcan before taking a sip of his drink.
Luxurious. Well, that was one word for the Charon's mess hall. Another would have been opulent. Almost ridiculously so. After ushering them out of sickbay, the ship's healer had been most insistent the Temep`Shar's survivors should allay themselves to the wide varieties of food offered by the mess located on the deck inexplicably designated 'Eris' and although T'Min would have much preferred to find some solitude, one did not argue with a disgruntled healer.
With the exception of young Havor who had already managed to charm a nurse into letting him access Charon's sensor logs, and stoic V'Lin allowing herself to be fussed over by a Starfleet healer with inky black hair, the Vulcans had departed sickbay. T'Min had elected to stay behind a little longer until she, too, had been firmly directed towards the mess hall where the abundance of food scents were sufficient to nearly cause a state of vertigo in the half starved woman.
Fascinating.
A pool of silence amidst the Yel-Halitra crew's low murmur of conversations, her crewmates were easily spotted and the tall, willowy V'Ket managed to nearly reach the table occupied by her Companion when a familiar face caught her attention. How different the human looked without his armor, and how astonishingly at ease. She paused and gazed down at the man's tall frame, noting that Sajel's attention was directed towards the marine as well. In fact, he was on his way over with a glass of steaming spice tea in his hand. What luxury – one neither of them had believed they would ever be able to indulge in again.
Dark blue eyes looked up without even the mildest glimmer of surprise and T'Min tipped her head in greeting. Once more, there was the tug of something vaguely familiar and without the distraction of impending combat the dark haired woman recognized it – this one knew another Vulcan very well indeed.
"My gratitude." Sajel's even baritone interrupted T'Min's ponderings and the tall V'Ket with the silver streaked hair gave a courteous nod towards the seated marine. "However, it seems we have yet to introduce ourselves to each other, yes?"
Brent watched the Vulcan man and woman approach as he stood up as they got near. "I always try to make good on my promises," he said to the two of them and inclined his head ever so slightly at their gratitude. "Indeed we have not have we. The impending fight and the blood and the gore tends to dull my manners, I apologize for that," he said with a slight smile. "My name is Brent Warren. Would you two please join me? Unless of course you have some prior arrangements." Brent motioned at the opposite side of the booth before waiting for them to take a seat before he did the same.
"The chef here is quite good at making various vegetarian meals if you would prefer... I am expecting someone so when the waitress comes back you should order straight away, I will wait for her though," he said before he looked at the two of them from across the table before taking a sip of his drink.
Her. Well, well.
T'Min silently studied the human, leaving the matter of returning the polite introduction to her companion. And polite this blue eyed one was, with an ease that suggested … practice.
A glass of ch'aal tea appeared before the tall woman and she blinked in mild surprise – another luxury, though this time one rarely found on any non-Vulcan ship. Bone weary and grief-stricken as she was, T'Min could not prevent her curiosity from reasserting itself any more than she could have prevented Tar'Hana from spewing lava. And although her face was as unmoved and impassive as ever, there was a light in her eyes that prompted an immediate surge of silent relief from the man sitting next to her.
She listened to the choices offered by the waitress who had brought the tea unasked and nodded agreement, experiencing a slight sensation of … being displaced. Such abundance. And moreover, the crew here seemed to take their arrival in the proverbial stride. Not to mention the fact this crew was … unusual all in itself.
"Your ship's hospitality is commendable, Brent Warren." T'Min did not need to turn her head to know a brow on Sajel's face was climbing slightly "However, I will admit to surprise. Considering the amount of inconvenience we must have caused, I would have expected resentment. Instead, it appears your healer is not the only one intent on 'coddling' the new arrivals as it were."
Patient humor and a definitive glint of recognition were radiating off the marine, leaving both Vulcans mildly puzzled and mightily inquisitive. Sajel was aware of a few former V'Ket serving in the Yel-Halitra, however they tended to be considerably older than the human sitting across from them. A friend then, rather than … something else? But there was no doubt one of their own was on board somewhere. There was no other logical explanation. Interesting.
But it was T'Min who formulated the question – or statement, rather.
"You have seen uniforms like ours before."
"It was in our job description when we signed up to put our lives on the lives for others in distress. And frankly living in that tin can for two years was it? Qualifies as being in a great state of distress," he said with a smirk, taking another drink from his scotch. "We pride ourselves on doing our job and doing it to the best of our abilities. At least my men and women do. The fleet officers are the same way, even if they are a little backwards in their bureaucracy and paperwork." He waved his hand at that though as if to dismiss the thought. They had not come to talk with him about his opinion on the vast majority of Starfleet staff.
He smirked. "I have seen it before. Although never in person. I have seen it in an image. Of the woman here that I am waiting for," Brent said before a smile crept up on his face. "And I do believe she just arrived," he said feeling Sakarra get close enough to him that he could sense her enter into the bar itself.
Absorbed with studying the human and adding the piece of information to the chains of logic forming in her mind – so, a connection strong enough for him to sense her even before she entered the lounge – T'Min nearly blinked with surprise when suddenly Sajel was on his feet in one fluid, graceful move. Following her companion's gaze, she almost embarrassed herself by openly showing astonishment at the sight of the Vulcan striding towards them with careless elegance.
Clean cut, exquisite features and long sable hair, braided and coiled like T'Min's but the elder Vulcan knew without doubt that if those tresses were loose they would fall in abundant curls. The face was unmistakable, even though the black eyes seemed oddly out of place when one expected the sharpness of smoked topaz.
It was as obvious as glaring sunlight on desert sands. And Sajel who had seen T'Leia's features in this young one even before her was already executing a flawless bow. It gave her the split second she needed to regain composure and tip her head in courteous greeting, returned immediately by the other woman before she – well, that was hardly unexpected now – greeted the human by offering her paired fingers and slid into the seat next to him.
"T'nar pak sorat y'rani, t'sai." Sajel's voice was placid and even, but a sharp ear would have picked up genuine warmth in its timbre.
"T'nar jaral."
If T'Min would have needed any more proof of this one's heritage, the melodious sound of her words would have been more than sufficient. So young. And then the chains of logic reached the inevitable conclusion. For the second time within merely 22.8 seconds, T'Min blinked.
Sakarra turned to Brent, outwardly oblivious to the other Vulcans' penetrating gazes. "Scotch? A most agreeable choice under the circumstances." Although it might be wise to eat first – not that this would prove a problem, seeing as Miss Betty was already emerging from her kitchen with a radiant smile on her homely face.
=/\= To be continued =/\=
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
Sajel & T'Min
V'Ket
