In what measures trouble comes.

Posted on Thu Aug 17th, 2023 @ 3:27pm by Lieutenant Commander Skovik cha Silask

671 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Ethics, Morals & The Prime Directive.
Location: Intelligence Office

The computer console in the middle of Skovik's office hummed pleasantly, an undertone of slightly melodic white noise that was soothing both to the ear and to the mind.

Humans referred to the sensation the sound created as an autonomous sensory meridian response, and it was said to be quite enjoyable. The human nervous system was quite the fascinating subject and he found it an intriguing thing to study in his free time. Some humans would find the sound sensation so soothing that they would rapidly fall deeply asleep in its proximity. He found he agreed with the principle, though he didn't go seeking the sensation.

Though, you have no issue in quietly appreciating the sensation of it, when it occurs spontaneously.

There was a similar sensation in the ancient Vulcan music, if one was dedicated enough to their study to affect the telepathic aspect into ones music. But, most could not appreciate that effect, so it was a rare student of music who was deep enough in their studies to create such a masterpiece of performance. He'd seen it only once in 70 years. The Vulcan cherished that memory, for it had been done in commemoration of his late wife, and her service after the Videk III Conference. The ambassador had insisted, and the performance of T'Sai Korellias Epic 'Pax Eterna' had been truly sublime. The memory of it softened his green eyes allowing an emotional depth uncommon among the Vulcans. It was whispered that they overlooked some emotional expression in those males who had not been fully healed of the trauma of their bond mate's death.

They would whisper about you in this moment, and your poor emotional regulation.

The ache in his shoulder was returning, and reminded him that the therapy session that he'd endured that morning had been particularly rigorous. It dissipated the warmth that had come to him in the memory of that spectacular night, and brought with it the chill of pain. He was becoming displeased with his body's lack of ability to heal from the injury he'd gotten 5.3 years ago, but recognized that a congenital defect of the joint was not something that just healed without the assistance of the medical personnel. They had suggested that physical therapy could help him to a degree unknown by either practitioner as Vulcans rarely had use for such theraputic techniques. Skovik could not argue with the results of the gentle strengthening exercises. While he'd not taken the shoulder out of joint again, the pain that seemed to come without cause or warning was displeasing to him. Especially when nothing eased it except injected analgesia, not even true sleep.

It is disconcerting, to not be able to control ones body. I cannot say that I appreciate it. I may need to take the good doctor up on her offer of a surgical fix.

Clasping a band around his wrist, just below and above the elbow joint and another flexible band that settled along the top of the shoulder and wrapped gently around his neck. Once the final clasp was set at his throat, a pale green light came on in the center, where the clasp was seated. The lights tracked down the rings in deepening shades of green. A sigh born of increasing comfort as he once more set his shoulder, immobilized in a position of comfort. The tiny force field emitters in the bands offered him a modicum of comfort, and he was loathe to rid himself of it, as it helped him to function. Skovik resigned himself to working one handed for the rest of the evening. He was just as deft with his right hand as he was his left, so it was merely an inconvenience for him.

"Heat setting 2" he instructed, and took a deep breath as the emitters began to radiate a warmth into his bones that was just as soothing as the sound he'd been reflecting on earlier.

Perhaps I should meditate on the problem.

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