Atala, part I
Posted on Wed Oct 4th, 2023 @ 5:40pm by Lieutenant Naota & Chief Petty Officer Jericho East & Solan
1,859 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission: Pressure
The young Vulcan was surrounded in a holographic bubble.
All around him, various displays depicted information on a vast array of subjects. Mathematical equations. Physics. History. Sorting through the deluge of information, the boy was meticulously going from one item to the next as he worked ahead of his school work.
A shadow loomed on the other side of the lit dome under which the boy worked. He knew from its shape that it was his mother, even before she spoke.
“Interrogatory. When was the last time you were outside the confines of this abode?”
Giving the question half a thought, the boy realized the answer – fourteen rotations – but suspected that such was not the true matter that had brought his maternal parent to interrupt his studies. “It would be illogical to pose such a question if one was not already aware of the answer,” the boy said in a matter-of-fact tone, allowing the form of the answer to supply the much needed sass.
Instead of supplying the answer, the boy justified it by stating, “Everything that is required for my studies is at this location.”
Departure was neither desired nor logical.
His parents had chosen to depart Vulcan for Haumea. He had not made that choice. And found the decision to be quite without logic.
“A misleading argument,” his mother rebuffed in the same, stoic tone.
The boy’s head turned up. The only visual cue of irritation, as he at last turned his full attention to the shadowy figure on the other side of the hologram. “In what manner do you believe it misleading?” the boy asked.
It was neutral in tone, but the slight demand that the woman explain her gall in questioning his logic was there nonetheless.
“Fresh air and exposure to sunlight are necessary components of a healthy lifestyle,” the shadow admonished, adopting the signature tone with which Vulcan parents talked down to their children.
Were he human, Solan would have rolled his eyes. Instead, the boy maintained eye contact as he instead offered a counterpoint. “Numerous civilizations and societies operate in entirely space-born environments that are artificial in construct...”
“Those societies and their people are not located on a living planet,” Mother asserted in the same tone.
“...and there are numerous studies on the health impacts of sun exposure or particulates in the atmosphere,” the boy added, reaching out to pull up an atmospheric analysis of current weather and then flip the holographic visual so that it was facing for her to inspect. “As evidence, current readings of Haumea’s air quality indicate the presence of dust particles. However, those are filtered out by our home’s air recycling system. Therefore, it is logical to state that this is the cleanest and healthiest environment for me as a vulnerable, young child.”
“Risk of skin cancer in Vulcans is extremely low...”
How was it possible to hear a quirked eyebrow in a Vulcan’s voice?
“...and the dust particulates present no threat of being so much as an irritant to your nasal passages, so your theory is not persuasive,” his mother stated, clearly determining for them both that the matter was decided. “Neither are you a vulnerable young child as you may claim, but are, in fact, at an age appropriate to aiding in the chores associated with our domicile.”
This time, Solan did roll his eyes.
Now they came to it. The real reason for interrupting his studies.
Child labor.
A hand intruded on his bubble, thrusting a padd containing a series of common household items on it. “Here is a list of things I require from the replimat,” the woman’s voice stated. “I will expect your return within one hour.”
********
Jericho had put up with the young Maori bouncing off the walls up until the point that the lamp had been broken.
In his defense, it had totally been the lamps fault.
Well, that, plus miscalculating the angle at which the ball was going to rebound out of the corner. Or the force behind said ball.
At that point, the engineer had booted the boy from out of the house and told him to go run off some energy. So Naota had decided to take him literally and was doing a lap around the colony.
The bombastic, brown-skinned Only was bursting through a bustling market, when he spied something that made him skid to a halt.
It was another kid his age.
Well, not literally a kid his age. But the closest thing he’d seen since he’d arrived to the colony.
To be completely honest, Naota figured the boy for a Romulan. He recalled the colony had quite a few in its make up. Striding up alongside the other boy, whose head was down in a padd, the Maori offered a friendly, “Hi!”
The pointy-eared boy looked up, pointedly ignoring Naota, as he instead seemed to consult the list in his hands as if to confirm what he was being sent to fetch.
Trying again, the Only offered, “I’m Naota. What’s your name?”
The other boy just turned away, offering a cold shoulder as he instead wordlessly consulted the padd and then wandered closer to read a directory of the shops.
Something about the mannerism was making Naota doubt his Romulan assessment from earlier.
“Ra ish-veh ahm?”
The reaction was immediate, as the elfin boy turned and cocked one eyebrow toward the Maori. Then, the eyebrow lowered as something more akin to a scowl seemed to darken the boy’s face. “If you believe that your ability to recite three words in Vulcan would invite some primitive form of socialization, then you are mistaken.”
Thinly veiled attitude problem. Superiority complex the size of a dwarf planet. Definitely Vulcan. Giving a shrug, Naota casually tossed back, “So what would?”
The Vulcan boy just blinked.
The two just stared at one another for a moment, before Naota clarified the question. “Invite socialization?”
The Vulcan boy’s head went back. Naota could almost imagine the other boy clutching at imaginary pearls for the mere suggestion. The furrow in the Vulcan’s brow seemed to deepen as the boy dryly offered, “Something other than a red-blooded Neanderthal whose emotional faults are the product of a small brain.”
Naota just stood there, as if waiting.
Oh, that was it?
“Right, but I didn’t ask what wouldn’t invite socialization. I asked what would,” the Maori noted flatly, before tacking on the absolutely obligatory, “I can see how those concepts could be confusing.”
The eyebrow shot back up along the other boy’s brow. “Hardly.”
The Vulcan seemed to be sizing the Only up, taking a step closer as he quipped, “No doubt, you get confused by two plus two. Which, spoiler alert, the answer is four.”
Crossing his arms, the Maori just adopted a smug look as he tossed back, “How about the cosine of the Cochrane Equation?”
The Vulcan just blinked.
“Oh, that was humanonormative, wasn’t it?” Naota remarked off-handedly. “Sopek’s Third Dictat, Shrax’s Paradox, or Kog’s Argument if you prefer.”
“Forty-two,” Solan asserted flatly.
There was a snap, as Naota made a gesture with his thumb and forefinger. “That’s what they teach you in school, but its only true for the warp threshold. Past that, there’s an inverse coefficient that causes the Warp Five barrier to early technological development,” the Maori explained. “Taking that into account, it’s actually thirty-nine point seven, repeating.”
The Vulcan blinked a second time, then stepped in close as his hands went to push the mass of tawny hair away from his ears.
“They’re round,” Naota remarked, as his tried to contain his amusement at the Vulcan boy peering at either side of his head.
The Vulcan pulled back in disbelief. “But... you’re not human,” the other boy noted, in a way that made clear that it wasn’t a question.
The Maori just gave a nod in affirmation. “I’m Only.”
The boy’s eyebrows switched positions, the right one descending and the left rising, before the Vulcan asked, “Only... what?”
Arms thrown out, Naota exclaimed, “Only the greatest species in the galaxy!”
For the record, now both eyebrows were raised.
Taking the padd from out of the Vulcan’s hands, Naota peered over it as he asked, “Hey, are you out shopping?”
The boy’s finger ran down the list, pausing as he blurted out, “Oh, I saw a place for this.” Raising his head, Naota looked to his left and right as he tried to recall just where it was. “Over there,” he offered, tossing the padd back at the Vulcan boy.
Fumbling to catch the device, Solan started to stammer, “It would be logical to first...”
Naota’s hand grabbed onto the other boy’s arm.
“Come on!” was the last thing the Vulcan heard before he found himself being dragged along for the ride.
******
Peace had been restored to the assigned family housing.
That was until a seventy pound, less than five-foot-tall, rampaging bull burst inside of the proverbial china shop with the absolutely obligatory, “DAD, I’M HOME!”
You know, just in case the people on Tellar weren’t aware.
Replicating a glass of water, the Maori kicked off his shoes as he wandered toward the living room. “I met this Vulcan ki...”
He stopped in mid-sentence as he found his dad seated across from a man in a Marine uniform.
“Uh, if this is about that speeding ticket at Starbase Three-One-Eight...” the boy began.
Jericho indicated the man as he began, “This is Major... wait, what speeding ticket?”
“What? Oh, nothing,” Naota chirped, before turning his attention to the Marine. “Major?”
The stranger was on his feet, even as he bent slightly to push a padd into the boy’s hands. “Lieutenant Colonel Bradley has taken temporary command of the colony,” the major offered, even though Naota had no idea who that was. “You’ve been recalled from leave and assigned to the Atala.”
Craning his head back, the boy looked up to ask, “What’s an atala?”
“All information has been restricted to need-to-know only,” the marine officer stated in reply.
The young Maori just cocked his head to one side as he tried to process that. Then, he blurted out, “So, I’ve been assigned to an atala, but I can’t know what it is?”
“All information available to your clearance level has been downloaded to that padd,” the major reported.
Naota had just glanced back down at the padd in his hands when he heard the man add:
“If there are no questions, the assignment is immediate.”
The boy’s head came up sharply. “Wait, what?”
The Marine’s hand tapped his combadge as the man uttered, “Atala, energize.”
“I have, like, so many quest...”
Naota was interrupted in mid-sentence as the transporter took hold.
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