Ensign Sariel Rager (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
visible_sariel) wrote2007-07-03 02:33 pm
visible_sariel) wrote2007-07-03 02:33 pm
Castries, Saint Lucia shoreleave post midsummer night's amnesia
Sariel's exit from the bar had been as quiet as was her usual. Swish, hiss, and she was back in her quarters, a foot from her closet door and standing. she'd had her memories. She'd had knowledge of a being that, below the Endless or not, bore certain disconcerting similarities to Q.
And she'd had the distinct urge to get back into the ship's routine. As pleasant as the bar was, her recent experiences - especially the one connected with a toppling desk chair - had made her that much more eager to return to what she did best.
And what she knew best.
And maybe the landlord had a sense of that. Either that or the 'verse felt like giving her a dose of the mundane... or what passed as mundane on ships called Enterprise. Because aside from a few rather spectacular and very Ancient Western hiccups in ship's systems and a minor anomaly on sensors that turned out to be an easily-correctable glitch, Sariel got her routine. Three weeks of it, in fact. No catastrophes, no major upsets.
No bar door in her closet.
and it wasn't as though she didn't wonder, when the second cycle of the door revealed clothing instead of activity for the fifth or sixth time in as many days. But she loved serving in Starfleet. And beyond that, she loved flying. And when her passion and her ideal career were connected, even the mundane was more than welcome.
But that's not to say shoreleave wasn't just as welcome, when time and travel orders brought them round to Earth again. Visits to the Sol system were rare, especially on the flagship of the Federation, and Sariel was far from being too proud to admit that the loss and restoration of her memories had sparked a renewed desire--as if it was ever gone--to get back to the island, and her parents, and everything else that came with home. Yes, she loved serving in Starfleet; the exploration, the pervasive curiosity, the opportunity. But she also knew, and knew well, where home was.
"Enterprise, this is Earth station Kingston. Ready to receive one on your signal." There was just enough time for Sariel to realize how welcome the accent on the other end of the comm line was before the world dissolved in a familiar shimmer, to reform seconds later as the inside of Jamaica's main transport terminal.
From there it was a relay, Kingston to Castries in a shimmer and then ten steps out into familiar streets- some winding, some arrow straight, some cobbled, some paved in modern synthetic stone. And then a turn down a particular lane with a particular bend at it's nearer end, and another to reach the door of a particular house and honestly? sariel wouldn't have minded if the walk had taken three hours rather than five minutes. this was her city. On her island. Here was a woman with an armload of costumes moving in the opposite direction, there were a dozen lively children with mud-spattered arms and faces. Over there was a man pinning the last streamer to a rolling cart painted in a thousand colors, and there went two teenagers wearing bangles on their wrists and ankles, chatting in excited Hindi. That was the scent of wine and fruit juice, that was the smoke from a distant bonfire and the music? Well.
the music was a given.
This was her city. On her island.
the fact that it was the middle of carnival only made it better.
"Mama? Papa? Are you here? This is unexpected, I know but... surprise!"
And she'd had the distinct urge to get back into the ship's routine. As pleasant as the bar was, her recent experiences - especially the one connected with a toppling desk chair - had made her that much more eager to return to what she did best.
And what she knew best.
And maybe the landlord had a sense of that. Either that or the 'verse felt like giving her a dose of the mundane... or what passed as mundane on ships called Enterprise. Because aside from a few rather spectacular and very Ancient Western hiccups in ship's systems and a minor anomaly on sensors that turned out to be an easily-correctable glitch, Sariel got her routine. Three weeks of it, in fact. No catastrophes, no major upsets.
No bar door in her closet.
and it wasn't as though she didn't wonder, when the second cycle of the door revealed clothing instead of activity for the fifth or sixth time in as many days. But she loved serving in Starfleet. And beyond that, she loved flying. And when her passion and her ideal career were connected, even the mundane was more than welcome.
But that's not to say shoreleave wasn't just as welcome, when time and travel orders brought them round to Earth again. Visits to the Sol system were rare, especially on the flagship of the Federation, and Sariel was far from being too proud to admit that the loss and restoration of her memories had sparked a renewed desire--as if it was ever gone--to get back to the island, and her parents, and everything else that came with home. Yes, she loved serving in Starfleet; the exploration, the pervasive curiosity, the opportunity. But she also knew, and knew well, where home was.
"Enterprise, this is Earth station Kingston. Ready to receive one on your signal." There was just enough time for Sariel to realize how welcome the accent on the other end of the comm line was before the world dissolved in a familiar shimmer, to reform seconds later as the inside of Jamaica's main transport terminal.
From there it was a relay, Kingston to Castries in a shimmer and then ten steps out into familiar streets- some winding, some arrow straight, some cobbled, some paved in modern synthetic stone. And then a turn down a particular lane with a particular bend at it's nearer end, and another to reach the door of a particular house and honestly? sariel wouldn't have minded if the walk had taken three hours rather than five minutes. this was her city. On her island. Here was a woman with an armload of costumes moving in the opposite direction, there were a dozen lively children with mud-spattered arms and faces. Over there was a man pinning the last streamer to a rolling cart painted in a thousand colors, and there went two teenagers wearing bangles on their wrists and ankles, chatting in excited Hindi. That was the scent of wine and fruit juice, that was the smoke from a distant bonfire and the music? Well.
the music was a given.
This was her city. On her island.
the fact that it was the middle of carnival only made it better.
"Mama? Papa? Are you here? This is unexpected, I know but... surprise!"