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It's Been A While

Posted on Mon Aug 26th, 2019 @ 5:22pm by Petty Officer, 2nd Class Fyn Wihone & Lieutenant JG Wyatt Spencer

Mission: Favor the Bold
Location: Ship's Lounge
Timeline: Day 234 at 2345

When Wyatt had told the Captian that he would have the intra-ship's communications system fixed by the end of the day, he had meant it. He thought it would be an easy thing to fix and that he might even have some spare time to explore around the ship. As it had turned out, Mister Murphy, had, had different ideas and the easy job turned out to not be easy at all.

Just when he thought he had gotten a handle on it, a new wrinkle developed and he was back to square one.

But, he had finally found the real issue, a defective relay on Deck 12, something he had missed earlier in the day. But to be fair to him, he had been distracted at first, after hearing a voice from the past. A Farian by his rather distinctive accent and not just any Farian, but Fyn Wihone whom he had dated for a tumultuous five months before he graduated He didn't know what his business with the Captain had been had been and he had to leave before he found out. But it got him to thinking

Whatever the reason the error cost him a lot of time and he had, had to work three hours past his shift, but had least got it done. It had also given him a headache and while it wasn't too severe he decided he didn't want to be alone in his own quarters

Now it was close to Zero hundred, or midnight and he decided to go to the lounge for his food, just as he did the previous night where he'd met the cute, but probably straight, diplomatic attache.

This time he decided to eat a little bit more healthy and ordered an apple walnut salad and a glass of white zinfandel to drink.

The mood of the lounge was pregnant, though its denizens sparse at such an hour. The lights were lowered, the deck powered down with less need to accommodate large groups of people heading into the quietest shift. Gamma was sedate. The same question was mused on: when do we launch and where do we go?

Fyn Wihone wasn't on duty, though his mind was- he forced it there. He'd spent his entire shift and a couple of hours into the next sorting through Captain sh'Elas' logistics backstop. He'd gleaned quite an understanding of what it took to get a starship launched. But with requisitions made- Deuterium even now was loading a freighter near the Cinder Trojans in Mercury orbit- replacements on their way- a new warp coil and a newer sub-processor en-route- Fyn felt justified that he'd helped relieve the Captain of some angst.

Much of what he'd scanned through were space weather reports- those went to Science and Helm- and personnel transfers- those were mostly meant for the XO- what had unsettled Fyn was how close the ship sounded like it might be going to his old stomping ground. That gave him pause. He knew the space and he'd left it for a reason. The powers in the area didn't behave like Klingons. More like... Orions. Or something more Romulan than Romulans were.

With it fresh on the mental palate, Fyn dreamed of things he'd put behind him, and had awoken from a nightmare from childhood.

The clean lines and exalted morals of the Federation were a world beyond what Fyn understood. He questioned when they had last truly felt existential fear as so many in the Jetsam dealt with, sometimes daily. Did they know places of fear? Places like he dreamt of. Places like Zombhi.

The word, to Humans at least, seemed to lead to a smirk or thought of as ludicrous. It had something to do with their past mythology that Fyn didn't quite grasp. But it was sobering fear to him. It wasn't spoken as "Zombie" but in the Yridian tongue, it was closer to Zumv-b-hee. And people in the Jetsam knew to give Zumv'b'hee a wide, wide berth.

Fyn surfaced in the lounge at this hour for warm, sweet milk with cardamom. His roommate in Academy, Lily, had given it to him a few times. He walked to the food synthesizer, swaying his head and dangling curls in unspoken thoughts as he refocused on the real: "Milk with cardamom, fifty-five degrees, touch of sweet." The processor hummed to life as Fyn waited. He spied the back an officer with a glass of white zinfandel. Fyn smirked. He dated a guy back in Academy who likes white zinfandel. Fyn wondered where he was now? Good memories but... bittersweet too. They knew it had to come to an end. But... inevitably it had tapered into subspace promises to meet that never connected and then less and less subspace until... somewhere along the way... they'd moved on.

The small alcove opened to Fyn's drink and he lifted it up to smell it. Farian sense of smell was on par with Humans though they lacked the same chemo-receptors for flavors. Too much sweet turned bitter- all Farian flavor receptors led to bitter if too much and it was akin to being too salty for Humans. Offputting. It was their proprioception and sight that were quite different. Fyn maneuvered himself into a small chair to face the stars so he could look out at them.

Wyatt was no telepath, so he wasn't sure what caused him to shift his position. But as he was setting his glass down he half-turned to his left and saw the face that belonged to the voice he'd heard earlier in the day.

After swallowing the wine he'd just sipped, he rose and walked towards Fyn and said, "Oh my God, it really is you."

Presence spiked in Fyn: primeval instincts- and he felt the hair on his neck stand on end. He turned as the Human spoke to him. Fyn's eyes rounded. He knew the face. It was a little older and the uniform was a lot different. But it was him. Same white hair. Same blue eyes. Same dark eyebrows. Fyn set his drink down, his toothy canine-doubled smile beaming as he reached to hug the Human. "Wyatt," he breathed into the neck. Smelled right, yet strange.

He eased out of the hug, holding the Human's arm, "It's been..." he smirked, searching eyes, "It's been a few uhh... years." Fyn was in disbelief. He eyed the rank standing out in gray, "Lieutenant, I-I guess, sorry." He stared, still not sure if this was just weird or... a weird dream down memory lane again. "I guess you still drink uh, zuh-zinfandel." Fyn's nose wrinkled- Farians didn't have a taste for grapes, and this one hadn't back then, either.

Wyatt smiled as the hug ended and the Farian continued to hold onto his arm. "Lieutenant Junior Grade if we're being technical. And yes, I still drink it. I remember when you tried it that one time."

He looked over his old friend his smile growing wider, "Are you, are you assigned here?"

Fyn nodded his head, "I-I was transferred off Ithemba Station a few days ago. It w-was out of nowhere. I was in the Yeoman Pool one moment and the next the Chuh-Chief Yeoman was telling me to get my ass to Mars." He too studied the face in front of him, "The-the last I heard, you'd just transferred to the Mercury. What're you duh-doing here?"

"I was just getting settled there really, had even, well I was just getting settled in and Starfleet decided they wanted me here. I'm the Chief Communications Officer here. My God, I can't believe we're going to be together."

Fyn smirked to the side. "Tha-that's good news. Congratulations, Wyatt." He blinked, "Well, um, Sir. You're ih-in uniform, after all."

Wyatt laughed and smacked his forehead with his palm. "Yeah, duh, of course. You want to join me for a drink or something to eat maybe?"

Fyn pursed his lips, thinking, nodding. Then he twisted and picked up his milk, "For a little bit. I have to be up at 0600 for my juh-jog, shower and then straight to work." Fyn walked with Wyatt to the table. Fyn set his drink down, then himself. He looked around the room- there were only three others in the entire lounge and all three had noses buried in datapad, their forks poised over late dinners. Or perhaps breakfasts.

Wyatt was a little conflicted. He wasn't sure how Fyn felt about him anymore. It had been a while and they had both been barely out of their teenage years. For that matter, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about the Farian. So, he wasn't sure just how to proceed.

He took a sip of his drink, his eyes locked on Fyn's. "It's been a while since we talked last. How have you been, what have you been up to?"

The Farian shrugged, "Aw-honestly, just work. I enlisted and they put me between Jupiter Station and Starbase Wuh-One for awhile. But it was purely cuh-clerical work. A lot of time on shuttles." He shrugged, "So when the Yard at Ithemba posted needing Yeomans for its shuttle construction yards, I applied. I've been there a couple of years." The Farian sipped at his milk. He looked down into its creaminess. "What did you d-do on Mercury? Wasn't it a deep space assignment or something?"

"No, it wasn't deep space, most of our assignments were classified. We had a lot of dealings with the Klingons and a few others I can't talk about. I had to do a lot of encryption work."

Without lifting his eyes, Fyn nodded his head. Then he sipped his milk and set it down. His long, brown fingers swept the rim of his drink, "Did you see combat?" he smiled and raised a brow, his gaze still down, "I understand if you can't tell me... because it was classified."

"Well, our job was not to see combat, but we did a few times yes. It was an interesting time. That may have been one reason I got picked for this assignment. Frankly, I wasn't how sure I felt about the change. Now that you're here, I feel a lot better."

Fyn nodded, "Do you know where we're headed?" He smiled to the side, "It's all the Yeomans are talking about right now."

"Deep space is all I know. You say that all the yeoman are talking about it. What are the rumors going around?"

Fyn shook his head, "Oh no rumors. it's just all questions. Where are we going? There's a betting pool that it's to Romulan space. But I'm not in on it."

"I met our diplomat, he specializes in first contact situation. I'm betting that we're going someplace new, uncharted space."

Fyn nodded, unable to reveal what he knew or he'd seen. A Yeoman assigned to the Captain had to be one of the most discreet people on the entire ship. "That sounds exciting. New languages for you to pick up maybe." Fyn leaned on his chin and watched the Human. "Sidee luuqadaada Fariisiga maalmahan?" How is your Farian these days?

"Waxaan ahay wax yar oo ka mid ah tababbarashadii, laakiin waxaan xusuustaa ku filan." I'm a little out of practice, but I remember enough.

Fyn nodded, "Not bad," he replied. "I guess on the Klingon frontier, you got better at your Klingonese."

"HIja', Suq kliononese SoHvaD QaQ." Yes, my Klingonese got very good.

Fyn smiled, "Now you're showing off," he teased, his one of his eyebrows rising under his ringlets. Fyn sipped his milk.

"You never seemed to mind that before," the Coms officer joked back.

Fyn raised his brows under his thick coiled bangs, "I still don't."

His tone moved from teasing to flirtatious. "Glad you feel that way. I could show off my quarters to you."

Fyn chuckled, and shook his head, "I need sleep. I-I'm just figuring out now how hard it is to launch a Federation starship. The requisitions and h-haggling is..." he shook his head and whistled disbelief. "Raincheck, as you once told me." Fyn took a healthy swig of his warm drink. "Speaking of sleep, I need to get back to it." Fyn stood up and tugged on his shirt.

"I get it. It's busy for all of us. But I am holding you to that raincheck. You have a good night."

Fyn nodded his head, shuffling to a stand, "Good to see you again Wyatt." The Farian smiled. "Come here," he offered a hug, "Then you cuh-can get back to your saxa-tasting wine."

A slow smile spread across the Communications Officer's face. "I'm about done here myself. Then I'm going to turn in myself. See you around." He sat his glass down on the table and stood to his feet. He put a hand on Fyn's shoulder than without actually asking permission, hugged the Farian.

Fyn hugged the Human back, lashing both his thin arms around the Communications Officer, tucking his nose against his neck and shoulder. "Mmmhmm, see you around," he murmured into Wyatt's neck. He pulled away and picked up his milk. The Farian peered at Wyatt's salad, "Walnuts?" He cringed, and grimaced, "They still muh-make me itch." Fyn smiled his double-canine smile at the Human and blinked fondly, "Night Wyatt."

"Night Fyn."


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