To Know Another Language, is to Have a Second Soul

Posted on Sunday August 18th, 2019 @ 4:32am by Lieutenant Commander Canaan Serine & Lieutenant Commander Freya Mannerheim
Edited on on Sunday August 18th, 2019 @ 4:33am

1,675 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Departure and Trial Run
Location: USS Poseidon; Chief Science Officer's Office, Deck 6
Timeline: Pre-Poseidon Launch; Pre-Departure

[ON]

Canaan placed the framed photo on the center of the shelf, taking a moment to absorb himself in the memory of the moment captured. Standing between his mother and father, the Serine family embraced arm-and-arm within the gorgeous backdrop of Mount Katahdin's summit. The pictures unique angle showed a limitless landscape beyond, with sunbeams cresting a blanket of fluffy clouds dotting incredibly blue skies, and an extensive thicket of wood below.

Savoring in the remembrance of that weekend, Canaan added a few personal collectibles to the shelf, aesthetically flanking the picture.

He'd spent the last hour or so unpacking, settling into its modest offerings and making it more welcoming with personal touches. The room was trapezius in shape and shy of three hundred square feet. The entry centered on the longest wall. A recessed bookshelf and equipment storage locker on the bulkhead left and right of the entrance, respectively. An artifact archive occupied the entirety of the portside bulkhead. Drawers about two inches in height and a foot deep populated the top portion of the wall, while compartments for more substantial pieces lined the lower half. A work station was in front of the smallest partition. Built into this wall was a sizeable LCARs display with a ten port data PADD docking station directly below, and several additional storage compartments below that. Finally, a three cushioned couch lined the starboard side bulkhead, with a coffee table and area rug below. The cabin, of course, was of traditional Starfleet design and decor, with plenty of recessed lighting.

Pleased with how the room was coming along, he gently tapped his combadge before speaking.

=^= "Lieutenant Freya Svanirsdottir to the CSO's office please." =^=

Freya was on the bridge, checking the helm and navigation systems were ready for the Poseidon to get underway when she received the call. Frowning, she tapped her combadge.

=^= "This is Lieutenant Freya, acknowledging. I will be with you shortly." =^=

A few moments later, she had arrived at the new Chief Science Officer's office. She quickly straightened her glasses and patted down her uniform. She considered zipping up the jacket but quickly decided against it - the new CSO would notice her disregard for that aspect of the uniform code anyway, so why hide it, she thought to herself, as she pressed the call button.

When she was called to enter, she strode into the office and stood at attention.

"Lieutenant, junior grade Freya reporting as requested, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, I appreciate the prompt response." He gestured to the couch after securing the top to the, now, empty container. "I won't take up too much of your time, as I know you're busy preparing flight control for our impending departure. However, I did want the chance to meet beyond the senior staff briefing since you'll share some time in the sciences." He noted the different color tunic Freya wore, rather than the traditional teal. Perhaps the blue was to denote her time shared between various departments. He especially liked her glasses though, whose vintage countenance pulled a corner of his mouth up into a grin of sorts.

Freya nodded and sat. "Yes, my original assignment was to the linguistics department, and I served in communications on the Cromwell before its loss. However, when I was assigned to the Poseidon, my experience in piloting ships was noted, and I was asked to assist in flight control. Since we have not otherwise been assigned a chief flight control officer, that role now falls to me." She looked at Lieutenant Serine, whose uniform fit as he had been destined to wear it. His pale skin and tall stature made him look like someone from the old legends her grandfather used to tell her, she mused before she continued. "I am afraid my duties as acting chief flight control officer may well prevent me from spending much time with the sciences department. Still, I will assist as I can, sir, although I somehow doubt that linguistics will be too high in demand on our mission. By the way," she suddenly asked, her eyes narrowing in curiosity as she tapped her combadge to disable the universal translator temporarily. " Serine... c'est un nom français, n'est-ce pas, lieutenant? J'ai lu dans votre CV que vous avez fait des études à Paris. Parlez-vous français?"

"Oui, en effet je le fais. Mais seulement un peu." His cheeks noticeably deepened in color. "I was born and raised in a village several hours from Quebec, where French remains the predominant language, regardless of universal translators." He mused. "French was a second language in primary and secondary schools... my parents are fluent as well."

Retrieving a pitcher of water, Canaan poured a glass for Freya and himself. "The Cromwell was a tragic event. I'm sorry to hear you experienced it firsthand but glad to know you survived the ordeal." He remarked with genuine compassion hinted in the tone of his smooth voice. "I wonder how you're settling in?"

Freya took a sip from the glass of water. "It was quite a life-changing event, sir. As you may know, mine was the only escape pod to make it out of the storm. If the Edinburgh had been there only an hour later, it might have been too late. Still, it was not my first brush with death, and, knowing life in Starfleet, it will not be the last." She paused and took off her glasses, slowly wiping them with the hem of her uniform jacket. "If you do not mind me asking, sir, why did you join Starfleet?"

Freya's words were a stark reminder of how one Starfleet officer's service was unlike another's. Blessed in that his record thus far had avoided confrontation of any kind, Canaan attributed this to his role. Being a scientist didn't have him inserted into precarious situations often enough to warrant concern. He wasn't naive, however. The time would come when he and his peers found themselves in a scenario requiring strength, resilience, and no small amount of courage.

"Exploration. Découverte." He replied after taking a generous sip of water. "Both of my parents are scientists, and I very much wished to follow in their footsteps, albeit in my way. I knew from an early age space was where I wished to practice, and so I prepared for that eventuality. And yourself?" He countered.

Freya hesitated for a moment, pondering the best way to answer his question without revealing too much. "My parents were traders," she finally said, "and we spent most of our time scouring the quadrant for wares to bring home to Nygard. Until pirates attacked our ship. My parents and my older brother were killed. I lost my leg, saving my little sister." She finally replaced her glasses and took another sip of water. "I joined Starfleet because I wanted to help stop other families from suffering the same fate."

Canaan was silent for a long moment, attentions never wavering from Freya as he digested the full scope of what she'd just shared. His heart ached at her loss, unable to fully understand that loss in a meaningful way. He'd not experienced it to the degree she had. "Je suis vraiment désolé." His sincerity was unquestionable. "And so you chose the languages? Why not go the route of a peace officer?"

Freya shook her head. "I spent my youth all over the sector, and I picked up quite a few languages on the way. The instructors at the academy picked up on my language skills and decided to use them. And I knew that these skills would be key when dealing with Pirates because they are known to communicate in code. My first assignment was the I.S.S. Cromwell, on a mission to find a pirate nest in the Badlands. I managed to translate a few coded messages and found their exact location. It turned out it was the same pirates that had attacked my family. The captain gave me the honor of giving the command to fire. Watching those torpedoes rip their base apart, yes, I had seen justice served. It took us a few hours to mop up the stragglers, but I am certain we got them all before the storm hit. That was both the best and worst day of my Starfleet career."

Canaan listened intently, his brow furrowing with evident disbelief as Freya described how the Cromwell had managed the pirate battle. The recounting was unusual, to say the least, and delineated from established Starfleet protocol. "None was taken into custody, the pirates I mean; there were no survivors?" He wondered, radiantly-colored eyes locking with those of Freya. And did she say ISS? Canaan paid it no more attention than a misnomer, believing full well that he'd misheard the woman in her steadfast and jubilant retelling.

Freya shook her head. "I am afraid not, as far as I am aware. We did collect some escape pods, but I believe those pirates died along with the rest of the Cromwell's crew." She finished her glass of water. "I can only hope this cruise will be less eventful."

"As do I, Ms. Freya." He agreed with a solemn smile, eyes lingering on the woman's passive expression for a second longer than usual. "Well!" He stood, placing the empty glass aside. "I appreciate your taking the time to visit and learn more about one another. I should return to my duties, and you're needed back on the bridge, undoubtedly." He extended a hand toward the woman. "A pleasure meeting you, Lieutenant."

Freya shook the offered hand. "As it was meeting you, Lieutenant. You know where to find me if you need my assistance."

Canaan's gaze followed the Freya's exit. Returning to the desk, the Lieutenant activated the display and made a few notes in follow-up to their meeting. One note, especially, stood out amongst the rest.

ISS?

[OFF]

"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."

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