Travel Sick [2/5]

Posted on Mon Sep 7th, 2026 @ 12:34pm by Captain Jaro & Lieutenant Elara PsyD

910 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Episode 1: The Fissure
Location: Bridge - Deck 1 - USS Amazônia
Timeline: 1 hour before arrival in the Orellia system

Elara couldn't help the slight smile as she took in the Captain. His choatic situation with his arrival and atire was a welcome distraction to where her thoughts had found herself. She guessed some people called it returning back to the ground with a bang...she had begun to understand what it meant.

"Cardassian pear nectar? I have to say I am unsure I have heard of that one?" Elara took the offered seat, straightening her jacket in an uncharcteristic move as she attempted to keep herself from being idle and her thoughts drifting again; the stars outside continuing to call to her. "That all sounds rather...unusual. A cargo of silk in Venice?"

Jaro smiled warmly, pleased to see the hint of a smile break through her quiet mood. He stepped over to the wall replicator, tapping the interface with a flamboyant flourish of his velvet-clad cuff. "Two glasses of Cardassian pear nectar, hot," he ordered.

The machine hummed, condensing light and matter into two elegant, stemless glasses filled with a thick, amber-hued liquid that radiated a gentle, fragrant steam. Retrieving them, he walked back to the seating area and carefully offered one to Elara before sitting down opposite her, settling his heavy velvet garment.

Jaro took a small, appreciative sip of his own glass. "It is quite delicious, though admittedly an acquired taste. It leans far more toward the savory than the sweet. Back on Cardassia Prime, the unique, earthy flavor profile is actually attributed to a harmless, microscopic parasite that tends to inhabit the fruit's skin during the ripening cycle. I assure you, however, the replicator's bio-filters render this version entirely sterile and perfectly safe. No actual parasites were harmed—or replicated—in the making of your drink."

He set his glass on the low table between them, his expressive face softening into a self-deprecating grin as he addressed her second question. "As for Venice... a minor hobby of mine. 'Holodeck Roulette,' I call it. I instruct the computer to select a random historical era, location, and role for me. It is an excellent exercise in cultural flexibility—forcing oneself to adapt to the customs and constraints of a completely alien epoch on a moment's notice. Though, I must admit, I do not believe I would have made a particularly successful eighteenth-century merchant. My natural impulse is to be far too candid. But the sheer volume of political maneuvering, the elaborate backstabbing, and the delicate social dances of the period? Absolutely fascinating to immerse oneself in."

His bright eyes rested gently on Elara, his tone shifting effortlessly from lighthearted eccentricity to the quiet, supportive focus of a commanding officer.

"But, as much as I enjoy the theater of Earth's past, I do not believe that you were interested in favorable trade winds when you asked for this meeting, Counselor. Tell me, what can I do for you?"

Elara flexed her fingers before cupping the beverage in both hands. It was part of the comfort she felt around Jaro; his eccentricity was refreshing in a world of rules and regulations. Each time she met him, the counsellor genuinely couldn't predict how the encounter would go. She could predict the content and conversation to some extent, but the manner in which the Captain presented was at times unpredictable.

"While it might not be why I came here, the conversation is still by no means uncomfortable, Captain. It nice to hear a person speak with such energy and passion about a topic unknown to me. It helps to bring it to life." Elara paused before continuing, "Helps to escape sometimes to."

Sitting back into her chair, Elara took another sip; letting the heat warm her body as she sorted through her thoughts, trying to pull herself back to business. "Have you had time yet to read my report on Ensign Claude?"

Jaro’s warm expression softened into a look of quiet, professional gravity. He didn't immediately reply, instead letting his fingers tap a slow, rhythmic beat against the table. He liked Elara's directness; beneath her gentle demeanor lay a razor-sharp clinical mind, and he knew she wouldn't have brought up the young operations officer unless it was critical.

"To be completely transparent, Counselor, given the recent arrival of our new Executive Officer, I have only found the time to skim it. Between the engineering diagnostics, Starfleet's sudden administrative surprises, and the flight plan revisions, my datapad has been a bit of a moving target lately. However, I read far enough to digest your primary conclusion." He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "The incident during our transwarp transit was... harrowing, to say the least. When a junior officer barricades themselves inside an auxiliary EPS junction room with a phaser and begins attempting to realign the plasma grid by hand because they believe the sub-quantum frequencies are 'demanding it', it poses a catastrophic risk to the entire ship. Not to mention what that raw thermal exposure would have done to the young man's respiratory system if the security team hadn't bypassed the seals in time."

Jaro paused, his gaze meeting Elara's with absolute earnestness. "But if I am reading the trajectory of your assessment correctly, you believe the cause for this sudden psychological fracture was entirely external." His expression shifted from analysis to concern. "But tell me, Counselor... what is your prognosis for his recovery?"

[TBC]

Captain Jaro
Captain
USS Amazonia

Lieutenant Elara
Chief Counsellor
USS Amazonia

 

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