A Fine Mess, Part IV: "Goodnight Fvuras"

[Jylliene 0]

(Log events take place immediately after A Fine Mess Part III)

 

The door slid shut behind them as Jylliene and Nijil entered her quarters. The first thing he noticed, stopping him in his tracks, was the size.

 

“I live in a closet,” Nijil said, looking about.

 

“I didn’t think your quarters would be much different in size than this,” she answered.

 

“One might think that. There was a bit of activity here when they assigned me quarters.” He thought for a moment. “It’s not important, it...” he stopped. “I don’t have a couch like that. They think I’m a Klingon.”

 

“Perhaps once things settle down, we can peek and see if there was a mistake.”

 

He looked at her, “When you get the time. After all I was sleeping around the station when I arrived. I..I mean not with people. By myself. I should sit.” The engineer headed toward the couch that caught his fancy before.

 

Jylliene chuckled quietly as she approached the small replicator. “Two cups of tea - darjeeling oolong.” She carried the tea over to the small table, and set it down, then took a place on the couch as well.

 

“It’s good to have a break from the activity. A little chance to refocus,” she said. “It’s been a very long shift. Several shifts, really...and I’m babbling. My apologies. Tea,” she finished, cradling the cup in her hands and sipping from it.

 

“Ie. I mean yes.” He took the tea cup in both hands, his injured hand showing prominently in the light. The warmth felt welcoming compared to the cold dark of various conduits he stuffed himself in. “What kind of tea is this?”

 

“Darjeeling oolong.. It’s a nice variety. One of my favorites.” Jylliene took another drink. “Did you drink tea before coming to Aegis?”

 

“My family grew tea on ch’Rihan along with other crops. Wine. Many items. It’s all destroyed now.” Remembering this reality stung, but as more memories stung, Nijil began to be immune to his own losses. He took a drink rather than a sip of the tea. “Hmm. Mmmm. Good.”

 

Jylliene grinned. “Glad you like it. Perhaps a tasting sometime of several varieties.” She took another drink. “Would you care for anything to eat?” She stifled a yawn. It had been a long shift.

 

He nodded, as if in a non-speaking state of mind as he drank more tea. “May I ask you something?”

 

“Of course,” she said as she stood, walking over to the replicator, and trying to decide what to request.

 

“What do you think of Romulans?”

 

She pondered that for a moment. “The ones I’ve met have been very dedicated to their post and their families. Loyal. And I am quite pleased to be able to work with some,” she said, smiling back at Nijil. She settled on a general plate of sliced cheeses, meats and bread, and carried it back to the table.

 

Drinking some more, “That is good to hear. There have been others...others who seems to abruptly stop their conversations when I approach. I’ve heard “varuul” more than once. Not directed as me.” He drank some more, realizing he arrived at the end of the cup. He frowned. As he looked up again a picture frame caught his eye.

 

“I hope a sandwich tray works. At least you can choose what you want this way. With a little more advance notice next time, we could try for more of a real meal.”

 

Nijil grabbed a cheese without looking at the plate, his gaze fixated on the people on the photo. He grabbed the frame without asking and yawned. “This is you in the photo. You look younger.”

 

She nodded. “It was when I entered the program to be evaluated and prepared for joining with a symbiont. My parents were quite proud of that. Selection is still fairly restricted.”

 

“Joining. I think I read about that somewhere. Many species in your Federation. I’m not sure I would be comfortable with a joining.” Nijil studied the photo further.

 

“As it turned out, nor was I. I saw someone I cared about change dramatically after joining. I didn’t want to consider the possibility that I’d yield my personality to a stronger symbiont - to lose myself before I really had a grasp of who I was or what I wanted specifically,” Jylliene replied, looking at the photo as well.

 

Nijil nodded and yawned. “Forgive me. I have been walking nearly the entire station. Seeing her on the list of the dead conspirators shocked me, speaking of altered personalities. I hope she did not kill anyone here. I need to know.”

 

“You don’t need to know right this moment, though, do you?” she said, look at him with concern. “We’re both exhausted, I think,” she said, stifling another yawn.

 

He shook his head. “Knowing would not change anything for anyone but myself.” He yawned hard enough for it to hurt. Over the course of several minutes he’d fallen deeper and deeper into the cushions of the couch.

 

“You don’t have a couch - do you at least have a bed in your quarters? Or will you even make it back there awake?” she said, with a gentle grin. “You do look comfortable right there.”

 

“I yes.. I have a bed of sorts, though I feel I’m never in it. Most of my quarters are filled with displays and indepen...yawn... ent computers for...oh.”

 

Jylliene was already on her feet, and had fetched a light blanket from her bed, and was busily arranging pillows into something more like a bed’s layout. “If I offered you use of my bed, would you accept, or will you insist on taking the couch instead?”

 

He yawed. “The use of your what? He still clutched her family photo absentmindedly in his left hand.

 

“Bed. You’re my guest, Nijil. I wouldn’t dream of not offering you the better sleeping area. But if you’d be more comfortable with the couch, you’re just as welcome to it.”

 

“Oh...ehsiu. This is ra.” He started to speak in his native tongue as reality got quieter and dimmer. “Aur hfihar looks oelh...emaehe is ulluahn or urrhaa.” His head fell to one side as his speech drifted off.

 

She smiled. “Hfihar..?” Jylliene paused. “You are tired,” she said, and rubbed his shoulder. “You’re speaking Romulan to me. Go to sleep, sweets. There’s plenty of time later for more talk.” Jylliene drew the blanket over him, then retreated to her own bed.

 

“Computer...lights off.”