To Find an Antidote for the Emptiness of Existence
Apr 7, 2014 16:47:19 GMT -8
Starfleet Command and Lieutenant Eden Nivans like this
Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2014 16:47:19 GMT -8
Empty.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he counted down from one hundred. That didn’t calm him the way he’d hoped it would, so he began counting his steps as he walked aimlessly around one of the less-populated retail areas of the station. He wasn’t really sure what or who he was looking for. Something told him that he would know when he found out.
The difficult thing about being intelligent was thinking fast. It was a blessing when you were in the lab, racing to figure out what was causing a rare spatial phenomena before it destroyed a planet, or when you were trying to crunch some data before a big deadline. But when you were a man and you were alone and the carefully constructed fortress you’d built around you was threatening to crumble down, it was a curse.
For years his fortress had stood unmolested by others. He’d done what he wanted to do within the constraints of Starfleet’s Code of Conduct. Sure, he’d had periods where he wasn’t getting promoted because he didn’t take himself seriously enough. But though he was certainly capable of doing a tremendous amount, he’d never really found anything that genuinely motivated him to want to do better. If you wanted to succeed, you gave failure the ability to hurt you. His fortress was modest, his accomplishments minor, but it stood strong.
Looking back at it now, the first cracks had begun to form when he was assigned to the Talon. It was the first genuinely impressive assignment he’d been given, and he wanted so badly to do well at it. At first, he was doing relatively well for himself. He was doing his duty, having fun, and even entertaining some of the Talon’s ladies in his free time.
And then there was the carnival.
When it was late at night and he lay in his bed alone, he thought back to that day. Sarnah’s prying of Ahska brought it to mind once more. He was a choice that she made. Was that all he was to her? It was an admission that hurt him in ways he hadn’t expected. Since her guards had come to retrieve her from that beautiful island, their paths had diverged. So much had happened. So much had changed. Her father had died. She’d gone into mourning. She’d been bonded to Esohn. He still had to stop himself from shuddering every time the man’s name came to mind. Esohn hadn’t been a choice, he’d been a duty, an expectation.
Given that perspective, being a choice didn’t necessarily seem like that much of a bad thing.
Quin had made choices. Every day of his life since that fateful meeting the day after he’d been assigned to SGE, the day that he’d been approached by a merchant with a proposition that he found positively exhilarating, something that could change everything for him...
Quin had that feeling that someone was watching him, and he looked around. A young Etimonian boy, probably somewhere in his mid-teens, gawked at him openly. That had been happening a lot since he’d permanently made the move to SGE. Most of the older Etimonians knew better than to openly stare at someone just because of their aura, but Quin knew that most had never seen the man whom Ahska had chosen. He knew they didn’t mean him any offense, and it wouldn’t bother him so much if it wasn’t such a sensitive subject.
He reached into his pocket, checking to ensure that the contents were still safe. As he fidgeted, he paused for a moment, trying to figure out where his wanderings had taken him. He’d been aboard the station for a decent period, and even though it followed most Federation design principles he still got turned about from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it was actually the station that was confusing. He had a feeling it was some metaphor about his present state of mind.
There were definitely some very large cracks in the fortress now.
He had worried sick while Ahska was in seclusion after Etheron’s death. He’d never had the opportunity to apologize to her for getting her in trouble. He should have known better than to sneak away with the then-Qysan, but something about her had captivated him in a way that he’d never felt before. Sure, he tended to pursue whichever women he thought were most likely to give him what he desired. But he was a Starfleet officer. He regularly encountered women of high-caliber— fellow officers, planetary leaders, diplomats, some of the most brilliant scientific minds the galaxy had to offer.
At the time, she’d been a princess, and that gave her an additional prestige above just any ordinary woman. But liked he had told her when they first met, she was the sort of woman who could never be ordinary. It wasn’t just beauty, it was grace, compassion, poise… the traits he would have never expected to want in a woman, but that drew him to her anyhow.
He’d never even considered the possibility that she might conceive a child. He was far too accustomed with Starfleet sensibilities when it came to procreation. Nearly all of the women he bed were on a contraceptive shot, or he made sure that he had one of his own when he knew he’d been encountering alien women.
In another time, Quin might have been upset upon realizing that a woman hadn’t made him aware that she could become pregnant. But he hadn’t been able to feel that way, because the first he ever heard of his daughter was the news that she had been lost; the pool she was meant to incubate in vandalized.
Already Ahska had taken power over his heart and soul. From the first moment his lips has touched her, she’d intoxicated him, without even initiating the Bre’anah that differentiated Etimonian lovemaking from any other kind that Quin had encountered in the galaxy (and he had considerable knowledge, both from practical experience and from considerably research).
“Uhg, you’re turning into such a sap in your old age,” Quin muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry?” The owner of the cart he was standing in front of said.
“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” Quin said, embarrassed. He hadn’t even realized that his wandering had lead him to one of the juice carts that the Etimonians enjoyed so much. He guiltily pulled out some currency, careful not to pull out the other things that were still resting heavily in his pocket.
Selecting his beverage he walked away, trying to figure out where his train of thought had gone astray. He could remember exactly where he life had begun to go astray. Not being able to see Ahska had been hard enough. Nothing could have prepared him for the anguish that struck him when he learned that his daughter had been killed. Though he hadn’t known of her existence, Ahska had. And Ahska had to ensure the loss of her father and both of her children in rapid succession. He’d spoken to everyone he could on the station. Diplomats, merchants, minor members of the royal family… they were all insistent that he could not see Ahska while she was in mourning.
He knew that she was soft at heart, and that enduring such pain must have been devastating for her. He doubted that there was anything that he could have done to alleviate it. Hell, he still had no idea where things stood, other than Ashka allowing him to visit.
Quin was not soft at heart. In fact, the general consensus was that the only thing that Quin Vedan cared about was Quin Vedan. Still, everything that happened had left him sad, afraid…
Empty.
He hadn’t performed a duty shift in weeks now. He was participating in the mandated counseling to a degree, but nothing had genuinely created a spark of interest in him for weeks. He talked about his feelings and the counselor took silly notes, and made vague statements about acceptance and maturity.
So what if he was 34 years old and the longest commitment in his life was the three years he’d devoted to muttonchop sideburns. So what if the padd hidden under his mattress with the list of all the women whom he bedded in his life with footnotes about their prowess (and holoimages and video) was nearly full. So what if he’d gone through crazy fits where he’d tossed aside everything in his room, unable to properly cope with emotions that he was unfathomably underqualified to feel?
How many nights had he laid in bed, curled in fetal position, wondering where he’d gone wrong in life? How many days had he wandered the halls of the station, scrutinizing every Etimonian face that he passed, hoping that one would be similar enough to Ahska’s face to give him a moment’s reprieve? How many equipment lockers had he went up to, punching in his authorization code in hopes that it would work.
There were cracks in the fortress.
The blue collar of the uniform he was wearing chafed uncomfortably at his neck, as though he subconsciously aware of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be wearing it right now? He was sweating as though he’d just committed a crime and was being tailed by station security.
How had he gone from feeling so content a mere hour before to this? This emptiness. He knew what he needed. He also knew that he couldn’t have it. Sure, he could be a father to Dinah and Ra’Tok. He could be a friend to Ahska. But she was on a completely different level, a level that one such as he couldn’t possibly ever hope to attain.
Sure, he could go back to duty in a few days. Work as hard as he can and try to find a promotion in his future. But what would come of it? Maybe he could Captain a science vessel, or teach at the Academy. But he was still common. Ordinary. Sure, chicks loved the spots. And yes, he’d picked up a good number of skills in his travels. Realistically though, he couldn’t hope to keep a woman like Ahska solely because he had some talents that other men would kill for.
So what now? His hand went back into his pocket. The two vials within were cool, and they clinked against one another as his fingers tightened around them. Their presence there was both reassuring, and distressing to Quin. All it would take is a little bit of effort on Quin’s part, and everything would change.
Ducking around a corner, he pressed his back against the wall, his head lolling backwards as he struggled to regain control over himself. His hand withdrew the vials from his pocket, and he looked down at them. He squeezed his eyes shut. No.
He closed his hand tightly around the vials, walking swiftly to a replicator. It would be so easy to get rid of them. Rid himself of the temptation. He extended his hand, about to place the vials in the replicator.
There were cracks in the fortress.
He couldn’t do it.
Sighing, he put the vials back in his pocket. He practically ran to get away from the corner, as though he thought the very location was going to somehow taint him, more than he’d already been tainted.
He’d come close before. He’d almost used them. He’d spent more bars of gold-pressed latinum on two tiny vials than he’d spent on anything in his life. In Ahska’s absence, he’d hit up the dabo and domjot tables hard, and by some wondrous karmic miracle, he’d won… and won big. One didn’t win that big without people noticing, and he’d quickly found himself the target of merchants, who promised that each of their wares was life altering in a way that Quin couldn’t even dream of. At the time, thinking his daughter dead, and Ahska bonded for life to Esohn, he’d entertained some of these offers.
First came the alcohol. The good stuff, the rare stuff, the illegal stuff. The alcohol made you pliable, made you more likely to be deceived, to buy the falsehoods you were being fed without a second thought. Quin had taken some of the fancy liquors off the merchants’ hands, but always pretended to be far more drunk than he actually was to see what their true character was made of.
Then came the women. Though he’d behaved marvelously since Ahska, Quin’s reputation had followed him to the station. When the alcohol failed to move him to give away his latinum, they’d brought the classiest, most talented escorts and companions from all over the know quadrant. Quin knew that he was a changed man when he refused them all, preferring the company of his memories and his loneliness.
The offers increased in value as his winnings increased. Trips to exotic planets. Super fast civilian personal spacecraft. He had no idea what they wanted from him. Did they think he was some sort of lucky charm? Or a secret to winning that they wanted him to share?
Without realizing it, Quin had walked to one of the gambling establishments that he had gotten attention at for his prowess, or luck, or whatever. He turned on one heel and walked swiftly in the other direction. He didn’t want them to see him. He knew they weren’t merchants. He knew they were part of some gambling organization that ran competitions on a planet Quin had never heard of before.
They weren’t trying to buy his secrets.
They were trying to buy him.
Coupled with everything else Quin had going on— the apparently loss of Ahska and child, the temporary revocation of his commission, and the scorn from his parents, who were reasonably well-connected in Starfleet Command— made him consider the offer.
The vials had been in his hand that morning. He had almost used them. He had almost sealed his fate when Sarnah called him.
There were cracks in the fortress.
Sarnah had come up with a plan that would allow him to see his daughter, who wasn’t dead. No, Quin had a holoimage of himself holding Dinah. He had proof— not the picture, but the indelible mark that Dinah had left on his soul.
Now when he looked at the vials it wasn’t from despair. It wasn’t because he’d hit rock bottom. It was because he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could utilize what the gambling operatives had offered him to be the sort of man who had the power to keep a woman such as Ahska.
There were cracks in the fortress.
He took a deep breath, focused. He remembered what the operatives had told him A truly powerful man doesn’t wait for fate. He makes his own.
He straightened the uniform he wasn’t supposed to be wearing, and entered one of the nearby restaurants. The next person that I run into is going to change my life.
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
Tag: Anyone
He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he counted down from one hundred. That didn’t calm him the way he’d hoped it would, so he began counting his steps as he walked aimlessly around one of the less-populated retail areas of the station. He wasn’t really sure what or who he was looking for. Something told him that he would know when he found out.
The difficult thing about being intelligent was thinking fast. It was a blessing when you were in the lab, racing to figure out what was causing a rare spatial phenomena before it destroyed a planet, or when you were trying to crunch some data before a big deadline. But when you were a man and you were alone and the carefully constructed fortress you’d built around you was threatening to crumble down, it was a curse.
For years his fortress had stood unmolested by others. He’d done what he wanted to do within the constraints of Starfleet’s Code of Conduct. Sure, he’d had periods where he wasn’t getting promoted because he didn’t take himself seriously enough. But though he was certainly capable of doing a tremendous amount, he’d never really found anything that genuinely motivated him to want to do better. If you wanted to succeed, you gave failure the ability to hurt you. His fortress was modest, his accomplishments minor, but it stood strong.
Looking back at it now, the first cracks had begun to form when he was assigned to the Talon. It was the first genuinely impressive assignment he’d been given, and he wanted so badly to do well at it. At first, he was doing relatively well for himself. He was doing his duty, having fun, and even entertaining some of the Talon’s ladies in his free time.
And then there was the carnival.
When it was late at night and he lay in his bed alone, he thought back to that day. Sarnah’s prying of Ahska brought it to mind once more. He was a choice that she made. Was that all he was to her? It was an admission that hurt him in ways he hadn’t expected. Since her guards had come to retrieve her from that beautiful island, their paths had diverged. So much had happened. So much had changed. Her father had died. She’d gone into mourning. She’d been bonded to Esohn. He still had to stop himself from shuddering every time the man’s name came to mind. Esohn hadn’t been a choice, he’d been a duty, an expectation.
Given that perspective, being a choice didn’t necessarily seem like that much of a bad thing.
Quin had made choices. Every day of his life since that fateful meeting the day after he’d been assigned to SGE, the day that he’d been approached by a merchant with a proposition that he found positively exhilarating, something that could change everything for him...
Quin had that feeling that someone was watching him, and he looked around. A young Etimonian boy, probably somewhere in his mid-teens, gawked at him openly. That had been happening a lot since he’d permanently made the move to SGE. Most of the older Etimonians knew better than to openly stare at someone just because of their aura, but Quin knew that most had never seen the man whom Ahska had chosen. He knew they didn’t mean him any offense, and it wouldn’t bother him so much if it wasn’t such a sensitive subject.
He reached into his pocket, checking to ensure that the contents were still safe. As he fidgeted, he paused for a moment, trying to figure out where his wanderings had taken him. He’d been aboard the station for a decent period, and even though it followed most Federation design principles he still got turned about from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it was actually the station that was confusing. He had a feeling it was some metaphor about his present state of mind.
There were definitely some very large cracks in the fortress now.
He had worried sick while Ahska was in seclusion after Etheron’s death. He’d never had the opportunity to apologize to her for getting her in trouble. He should have known better than to sneak away with the then-Qysan, but something about her had captivated him in a way that he’d never felt before. Sure, he tended to pursue whichever women he thought were most likely to give him what he desired. But he was a Starfleet officer. He regularly encountered women of high-caliber— fellow officers, planetary leaders, diplomats, some of the most brilliant scientific minds the galaxy had to offer.
At the time, she’d been a princess, and that gave her an additional prestige above just any ordinary woman. But liked he had told her when they first met, she was the sort of woman who could never be ordinary. It wasn’t just beauty, it was grace, compassion, poise… the traits he would have never expected to want in a woman, but that drew him to her anyhow.
He’d never even considered the possibility that she might conceive a child. He was far too accustomed with Starfleet sensibilities when it came to procreation. Nearly all of the women he bed were on a contraceptive shot, or he made sure that he had one of his own when he knew he’d been encountering alien women.
In another time, Quin might have been upset upon realizing that a woman hadn’t made him aware that she could become pregnant. But he hadn’t been able to feel that way, because the first he ever heard of his daughter was the news that she had been lost; the pool she was meant to incubate in vandalized.
Already Ahska had taken power over his heart and soul. From the first moment his lips has touched her, she’d intoxicated him, without even initiating the Bre’anah that differentiated Etimonian lovemaking from any other kind that Quin had encountered in the galaxy (and he had considerable knowledge, both from practical experience and from considerably research).
“Uhg, you’re turning into such a sap in your old age,” Quin muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry?” The owner of the cart he was standing in front of said.
“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” Quin said, embarrassed. He hadn’t even realized that his wandering had lead him to one of the juice carts that the Etimonians enjoyed so much. He guiltily pulled out some currency, careful not to pull out the other things that were still resting heavily in his pocket.
Selecting his beverage he walked away, trying to figure out where his train of thought had gone astray. He could remember exactly where he life had begun to go astray. Not being able to see Ahska had been hard enough. Nothing could have prepared him for the anguish that struck him when he learned that his daughter had been killed. Though he hadn’t known of her existence, Ahska had. And Ahska had to ensure the loss of her father and both of her children in rapid succession. He’d spoken to everyone he could on the station. Diplomats, merchants, minor members of the royal family… they were all insistent that he could not see Ahska while she was in mourning.
He knew that she was soft at heart, and that enduring such pain must have been devastating for her. He doubted that there was anything that he could have done to alleviate it. Hell, he still had no idea where things stood, other than Ashka allowing him to visit.
Quin was not soft at heart. In fact, the general consensus was that the only thing that Quin Vedan cared about was Quin Vedan. Still, everything that happened had left him sad, afraid…
Empty.
He hadn’t performed a duty shift in weeks now. He was participating in the mandated counseling to a degree, but nothing had genuinely created a spark of interest in him for weeks. He talked about his feelings and the counselor took silly notes, and made vague statements about acceptance and maturity.
So what if he was 34 years old and the longest commitment in his life was the three years he’d devoted to muttonchop sideburns. So what if the padd hidden under his mattress with the list of all the women whom he bedded in his life with footnotes about their prowess (and holoimages and video) was nearly full. So what if he’d gone through crazy fits where he’d tossed aside everything in his room, unable to properly cope with emotions that he was unfathomably underqualified to feel?
How many nights had he laid in bed, curled in fetal position, wondering where he’d gone wrong in life? How many days had he wandered the halls of the station, scrutinizing every Etimonian face that he passed, hoping that one would be similar enough to Ahska’s face to give him a moment’s reprieve? How many equipment lockers had he went up to, punching in his authorization code in hopes that it would work.
There were cracks in the fortress.
The blue collar of the uniform he was wearing chafed uncomfortably at his neck, as though he subconsciously aware of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be wearing it right now? He was sweating as though he’d just committed a crime and was being tailed by station security.
How had he gone from feeling so content a mere hour before to this? This emptiness. He knew what he needed. He also knew that he couldn’t have it. Sure, he could be a father to Dinah and Ra’Tok. He could be a friend to Ahska. But she was on a completely different level, a level that one such as he couldn’t possibly ever hope to attain.
Sure, he could go back to duty in a few days. Work as hard as he can and try to find a promotion in his future. But what would come of it? Maybe he could Captain a science vessel, or teach at the Academy. But he was still common. Ordinary. Sure, chicks loved the spots. And yes, he’d picked up a good number of skills in his travels. Realistically though, he couldn’t hope to keep a woman like Ahska solely because he had some talents that other men would kill for.
So what now? His hand went back into his pocket. The two vials within were cool, and they clinked against one another as his fingers tightened around them. Their presence there was both reassuring, and distressing to Quin. All it would take is a little bit of effort on Quin’s part, and everything would change.
Ducking around a corner, he pressed his back against the wall, his head lolling backwards as he struggled to regain control over himself. His hand withdrew the vials from his pocket, and he looked down at them. He squeezed his eyes shut. No.
He closed his hand tightly around the vials, walking swiftly to a replicator. It would be so easy to get rid of them. Rid himself of the temptation. He extended his hand, about to place the vials in the replicator.
There were cracks in the fortress.
He couldn’t do it.
Sighing, he put the vials back in his pocket. He practically ran to get away from the corner, as though he thought the very location was going to somehow taint him, more than he’d already been tainted.
He’d come close before. He’d almost used them. He’d spent more bars of gold-pressed latinum on two tiny vials than he’d spent on anything in his life. In Ahska’s absence, he’d hit up the dabo and domjot tables hard, and by some wondrous karmic miracle, he’d won… and won big. One didn’t win that big without people noticing, and he’d quickly found himself the target of merchants, who promised that each of their wares was life altering in a way that Quin couldn’t even dream of. At the time, thinking his daughter dead, and Ahska bonded for life to Esohn, he’d entertained some of these offers.
First came the alcohol. The good stuff, the rare stuff, the illegal stuff. The alcohol made you pliable, made you more likely to be deceived, to buy the falsehoods you were being fed without a second thought. Quin had taken some of the fancy liquors off the merchants’ hands, but always pretended to be far more drunk than he actually was to see what their true character was made of.
Then came the women. Though he’d behaved marvelously since Ahska, Quin’s reputation had followed him to the station. When the alcohol failed to move him to give away his latinum, they’d brought the classiest, most talented escorts and companions from all over the know quadrant. Quin knew that he was a changed man when he refused them all, preferring the company of his memories and his loneliness.
The offers increased in value as his winnings increased. Trips to exotic planets. Super fast civilian personal spacecraft. He had no idea what they wanted from him. Did they think he was some sort of lucky charm? Or a secret to winning that they wanted him to share?
Without realizing it, Quin had walked to one of the gambling establishments that he had gotten attention at for his prowess, or luck, or whatever. He turned on one heel and walked swiftly in the other direction. He didn’t want them to see him. He knew they weren’t merchants. He knew they were part of some gambling organization that ran competitions on a planet Quin had never heard of before.
They weren’t trying to buy his secrets.
They were trying to buy him.
Coupled with everything else Quin had going on— the apparently loss of Ahska and child, the temporary revocation of his commission, and the scorn from his parents, who were reasonably well-connected in Starfleet Command— made him consider the offer.
The vials had been in his hand that morning. He had almost used them. He had almost sealed his fate when Sarnah called him.
There were cracks in the fortress.
Sarnah had come up with a plan that would allow him to see his daughter, who wasn’t dead. No, Quin had a holoimage of himself holding Dinah. He had proof— not the picture, but the indelible mark that Dinah had left on his soul.
Now when he looked at the vials it wasn’t from despair. It wasn’t because he’d hit rock bottom. It was because he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could utilize what the gambling operatives had offered him to be the sort of man who had the power to keep a woman such as Ahska.
There were cracks in the fortress.
He took a deep breath, focused. He remembered what the operatives had told him A truly powerful man doesn’t wait for fate. He makes his own.
He straightened the uniform he wasn’t supposed to be wearing, and entered one of the nearby restaurants. The next person that I run into is going to change my life.
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
Tag: Anyone