Returning to Forward Sensor Control II

[rosetto 0]

Two hours past and Sal still sat staring at the images of the Mandala room. He had modified the logic in his translator software, building on the eight archetypal figures. The eight sequences of symbols had also been scanned into his program as well. After another glass of brandy he tapped on the computer console and the translator sparked into action on the sequences:

The Father standing bold and tall provides the bread of life

‘tis his duty though self-proclaimed to pass on of wrong and right

He judges first and knows what’s best as fathers knew of lore

And he will guide you to the world and what it has in store

The Seeker is the outer man who needs to find his place

No rules can bind; they don’t apply too fixed are their constraints

He is his own and needs to find the self within himself

Sometimes the boy so immature never bothered to grow up

The warrior has his goals and cares not ‘til they’re complete

He lives the world of tangibles with cut-throat efficiency

The warrior is calm and cool while others stray aimlessly

And offers respect to the powers that be yet thrives on their defeat

The sage is the most inner man always queries on his mind

Constructing mental modeled thoughts in the world that he defines

Often the philosopher on the cutting edge of man

He seeks both love and reason be in his theoretical plan

The Mother is your third hand the one needed now and then

She‘s always there to comfort you when no one understands

And she can be the gracious queen like Father she will be heard

The heart of family gatherings her home the final word

The Companion, the trusted friend the one on one confidant

Free-spirited and welcomed in the unselfish gift of love

And she’s e’er the wanton looker the mischievous tease

More passion than compassion seeking through the ones she meets

The Amazon is independent the self-contained woman

She schemes, competes and succeeds in valued, ordered peace

Yet still the one behind the scenes certain the job’s complete

At home the perfectionist dusting off the dustless settee

The Mediatrix has the sight like waters no others dare

The worlds of collective consciousness are all hers to take care

She struggles between realities though she may be unaware

Reverent soul, the conscious dreamer she’s the chameleon, beware

 

Sal knew these people now. They were not that dissimilar to humans and he could now see that their passions had run very deep. The Zoalus had a love of life and celebrated it in their language and culture. They had matured beyond war and self-destruction and perfected their own psychological well-being. However, even with this success, Sal was certain that Manning would still be wanting. Manning was a simple sort and only sought out the profit margins to situations presented to him. What Sal had to show him was the

treasure map

. Manning wanted the

pot o' lucky charms

placed on his lap. He wanted

home court advantage

when he returned to the game with Maxwell.

He wondered how the away team was fairing, loaded his PADD with the translation and original images and rose from his seat. It was so quiet in his lab that QoB may have been in the heat of battle and he would be unaware. Well, that was mostly due to the fact that Sal had shut off or repurposed every control console in the forward sensor room to his liking, to his purpose. He had made it his own. The captain didn't seem to mind, he thought.

Sal straightened his clothing and finished his brandy, placing the bottle back behind the cabinet in its hiding place. It wasn't really a hiding place, just a place out of a casually wandering eye and to keep honest men honest. He emerged onto the bridge to find Manning seated in his chair and alone. There was a look of deep thought on his brow and he didn't even look up when Sal entered the room. Sal chose to simply take his seat at the helm and check ship's status.