Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2014 4:29:00 GMT -8
Twenty nine - thirty - thirty one, Diran continued to count as he swam the length of the pool. Sometimes the only way to let off a little steam was to swim for it, although it accomplished very little other than a little exercise. The smell of chlorine hung in the air from the heavily sanitised pool, lingering as though the myriad of thoughts that raced his mind had been given form and substance. He hadn't felt so unsettled since the very first day he had arrived on Earth to enrol at Starfleet Academy. It was ironic really, seeing as he had actually been fitting in better with the Talon's crew lately. Time and effort had been the biggest factors in this, both of which he had offered in abundance. It hadn't been easy, in fact he had felt close to failing many times, but he was getting there. In fact, he was even starting to enjoy the company of these people, slowly getting used to each of their individual customs. Some typical of their own race and home world, others not so much, but despite not exactly being a social butterfly, he felt that he at least had made important progress. So why wasn't he happy about it?
Forty four - forty five - forty six, and so he went on, wondering why in the grand scheme of things it even mattered how many lengths of this sad excuse for water he did. It was all progress, but the effort was beginning to drain even his energy. He suspected that if he didn't call it soon that he would be unable to walk. At fifty lengths, he figured that perhaps it really was good enough, and he stopped, placing his feet back onto ground level and leaning against the wall of the pool. He gazed up toward the ceiling were glaring lights loomed over him as though they had been watching his every move. Perhaps then, they could tell what they had seen, explain to him why he suddenly felt so lost. Starfleet had been everything he had hoped for, a challenge in more ways than one, and the skills he had gained had thus far been invaluable. So why then did he feel like he had lost something important along the way?
Diran's mind drifted toward his father, whom last he heard had been posted at the Zaldan Embassy on Earth. It had been a long time since either had been in touch with the other, due to of course being busy in their chosen pursuits. He was currently Zaldan Ambassdor to Earth, a noble if not difficult pursuit, whilst he himself was of course a security officer assigned to a ship that for all terms of purposes may as well be in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps now that they were back at SGE, it would be a good time to establish contact, but what exactly was he supposed to say? There had been a reason that he hadn't called him in a while, for one what would he think if he believed him to have been 'corrupted'? That is to say, having spent so much time with those who didn't share the beliefs and customs of their people, had he conformed perhaps a little too much? Had he forgotten what it meant to be zaldan? His father had been on many worlds where he'd had to learn many different styles of diplomacy. Although many found him insulting in his words and methods, in the end they had been obliged to make allowances. Besides, it wasn't as if he meant it. He simply said what everyone else was thinking, something that many cultures were afraid to do. When had that ideal become so lost and corrupted that the truth had been forgotten in favour of blatant lies that helped no one? Only when the truth was spoken could progress be made, but even the Federation seemed to prefer sugar coated words over what was considered brutal honesty. Just what would happen if everyone adopted the zaldan way of doing things? All out war probably, seeing as no one liked to hear the truth spoken. Was it really such a dangerous thing?
Thinking back to the academy, it had been extremely difficult to fit in. There was a reason that not many of his kind graduated to become full officers, because of their lack of willingness to tolerate and conform. Perhaps it was because it was rare that they received the same courtesy, but then even that was up for debate. He was different to humans, vulcans, etc, and he was proud of it, but it seemed that they all had at least something in common. Sometimes he felt as though he was on the outside looking in, but when he did feel at home with others, it seemed he had to put every belief and custom in the book to one side in order to do so. He'd caught himself apologising when someone else hit him in the corridors more than once, which meant very little to them, but to him it was a symbol of the very thoughts he'd been having lately. Just who was he now? A Starfleet officer and a zaldan, but could he really be both? How did his father stay true to himself when surrounded by so many other 'dishonest' cultures? Was it practice, or was he somehow inferior. Perhaps the damage had been done throughout his life, travelling and familiarising himself just a little too much with others throughout his childhood and early youth. For every skill he gained, and every day doing the job he loved, just how much had he lost along the way? Then again, how much had he had to lose in the first place?
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Forty four - forty five - forty six, and so he went on, wondering why in the grand scheme of things it even mattered how many lengths of this sad excuse for water he did. It was all progress, but the effort was beginning to drain even his energy. He suspected that if he didn't call it soon that he would be unable to walk. At fifty lengths, he figured that perhaps it really was good enough, and he stopped, placing his feet back onto ground level and leaning against the wall of the pool. He gazed up toward the ceiling were glaring lights loomed over him as though they had been watching his every move. Perhaps then, they could tell what they had seen, explain to him why he suddenly felt so lost. Starfleet had been everything he had hoped for, a challenge in more ways than one, and the skills he had gained had thus far been invaluable. So why then did he feel like he had lost something important along the way?
Diran's mind drifted toward his father, whom last he heard had been posted at the Zaldan Embassy on Earth. It had been a long time since either had been in touch with the other, due to of course being busy in their chosen pursuits. He was currently Zaldan Ambassdor to Earth, a noble if not difficult pursuit, whilst he himself was of course a security officer assigned to a ship that for all terms of purposes may as well be in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps now that they were back at SGE, it would be a good time to establish contact, but what exactly was he supposed to say? There had been a reason that he hadn't called him in a while, for one what would he think if he believed him to have been 'corrupted'? That is to say, having spent so much time with those who didn't share the beliefs and customs of their people, had he conformed perhaps a little too much? Had he forgotten what it meant to be zaldan? His father had been on many worlds where he'd had to learn many different styles of diplomacy. Although many found him insulting in his words and methods, in the end they had been obliged to make allowances. Besides, it wasn't as if he meant it. He simply said what everyone else was thinking, something that many cultures were afraid to do. When had that ideal become so lost and corrupted that the truth had been forgotten in favour of blatant lies that helped no one? Only when the truth was spoken could progress be made, but even the Federation seemed to prefer sugar coated words over what was considered brutal honesty. Just what would happen if everyone adopted the zaldan way of doing things? All out war probably, seeing as no one liked to hear the truth spoken. Was it really such a dangerous thing?
Thinking back to the academy, it had been extremely difficult to fit in. There was a reason that not many of his kind graduated to become full officers, because of their lack of willingness to tolerate and conform. Perhaps it was because it was rare that they received the same courtesy, but then even that was up for debate. He was different to humans, vulcans, etc, and he was proud of it, but it seemed that they all had at least something in common. Sometimes he felt as though he was on the outside looking in, but when he did feel at home with others, it seemed he had to put every belief and custom in the book to one side in order to do so. He'd caught himself apologising when someone else hit him in the corridors more than once, which meant very little to them, but to him it was a symbol of the very thoughts he'd been having lately. Just who was he now? A Starfleet officer and a zaldan, but could he really be both? How did his father stay true to himself when surrounded by so many other 'dishonest' cultures? Was it practice, or was he somehow inferior. Perhaps the damage had been done throughout his life, travelling and familiarising himself just a little too much with others throughout his childhood and early youth. For every skill he gained, and every day doing the job he loved, just how much had he lost along the way? Then again, how much had he had to lose in the first place?
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