Posted by Commander Shedda Mal’athar (Executive Officer) in side sim - Sair’s Office, Performance Review

Posted by Civilian Sair Songz (Counselor) in side sim - Sair’s Office, Performance Review

(snip)

Shedda listened quietly. Repeat back what was said to make sure you understood. “You’re feeling isolated? Professionally and personally?”

That was the basic outline of the situation but there weren’t words to fully encompass everything.

“I guess first I would suggest that you reach out to some of the other medical staff that are trained counselors. There are too many people for you to handle all the work yourself. Even if just for a consultation to get another perspective. You are considered part of the medical staff.......” Shedda paused, “Would it help to move your office closer to medical so it’s easer to access the other medical staff?”

“I would also say that you aren’t just a department of one, you are part of the senior staff. I know that on my last ship, learning to be both in command and a department head and a scientist I would forget that I was all those things and that they can compliment each other. So you are a doctor and the counselor, but you have a lot of experience as a professional and as a person. That is valuable to the senior staff team.”

“As for personally....I know I have looked at a lot of this while waiting to hear about Maava. The school sets up parents’ nights, there are socials, family nights. You are a single parent, but you aren’t the only parent on board. I’m sure you have something in common with at least one other parent. We have lost of hobby groups on board you could try. But my best advice is to join things, don’t wait to be asked.”

“BUT Sair,” Shedda paused and met her gaze for a moment. “If you are truly feel this is not the best place for you, you must do what is best for you and Koro. But if you feel that Manhattan is the place, I will do my absolute best to help you settle into your place here.”

Shedda

All of Ma;’athar’s suggestions were very practical solutions but somehow they didn’t make Sair feel better. Rising from her seat, she crossed the room to the side of the mika tree, reaching her fingers out to caress the white dolomite leaves of the statue. “Amito qon do temz…” she said with clear reverence, the words loosely translated by their communicators as ‘service to the realm’. “It’s a saying embedded into every facet of our society. It is the compunction to set yourself to the side for the betterment of the whole. And it’s been necessary. Most Kobliads die between age fifty and eighty years old. I’m forty-two. Granted, I have the most ideal metabolism a Kobliad born with our condition can have.” She turned to face Shedda. “I’m a Super-Celler. My body processes dueridium the best and thus I need less frequent doses. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have the same issues, that my body is not a ticking time bomb waiting to fall apart. I got the genetic treatment, but it doesn’t work on me, only on any children I bear. When I left Kobliad the first time, I had this wonderful idea in my head of having as many babies as possible. But then it was so hard to stay pregnant long enough to carry a baby to term that by the time I had Koro I realized I would miss so much. I’m trying to make the most of what little of my life I have left, but I’m on my own Shedda. I left Kobliad because the weight of the collective grief was too much, unbearable. But out here, I struggle to make connection in a way I never did before. And I think it’s because I realize that it’s very fleeting. It can’t last because I will die long before anyone I connect with. My metabolism has already started to decline. The terrible thing about being a doctor by training is that I can tell. I watched enough people fade away to know the signs. And all I can think is ‘what about Koro’? What sort of life have I consigned him with when all his family will be gone by the time he reaches adulthood. And now I’ve left Kobliad where we all understand that state of being. But I can’t go back either! I walked away. This exchange program was designed for my people to get out, connect with other cultures more and bring back knowledge so we can rebuild our society. And I did that for a little while. I returned. But I ran away and I can’t go back. I chose myself over my society and now what?” She gazed back at the tree statue, tears blurring her vision. ” I don’t know if this is where I’m meant to be or not. All I know is I broke our most important rule and now I don’t know where I belong.”

~Sair Songz, CNS

Shedda was at a loss. She didn’t know what Sair was feeling, or she had no way to empathize and understand what Sair was feeling. Her tone was gentle and slightly apologetic, “I have no way to understand what you are going through, Sair. Only one thing comes to mind and I don’t know it will help.”

Sair was listening, but her eyes were tracing the leaves of the tree, the hands wrapped around the trunk. But she tore her gaze away to give Mal’athar her undivided attention.

Shedda was first and foremost an archeologist, an anthropologist, and it was from that perspective she spoke. “Your people currently have a culture of waiting for death, waiting for the end. Now there is hope, but it is hard, for any culture, to change the....theme....of their culture. You mention Koro....” then Shedda stopped. A flash of connection in her eyes.

“Sair…my father took me when I was a baby and fled, escaped Orion. He couldn’t take it anymore. The corruption and apathy and pity of the people and the anger and corruption of the rich. He could never, ever go back after what he had done. I grew up away from my own culture, from people like me, just my father and a crazy mixture of other cultures that were not like me. I know at times he was lonely, and he questioned what might have been. The best thing he ever did for me…he honored our culture. The things that were wonderful about it, the things that should be preserved because he hoped one day I could help change it.”

She stood up and walked over to the Kobliad woman. “The causes for your reasons to leave might be different, but you can help Koro understand what is so wonderful and great about your people, about Kobliad and why it’s worth fighting for. He can learn about and from other cultures, but only you can teach him what is great about who he is and where he came from.”

Shedda

Her shoulders slumped and Sair looked away, internally irritated by own behaviour. Sometimes she wished she could go back to that woman who boarded Outpost 42 full of optimism and fervor. When all she wanted to have a bunch of babies and live every second so fully. She knew all too well that that was the Sair that her mother was looking for too. When had she become so… lethargic to her own life? But she knew all too well how and when. It wasn’t a single event, it was the multitudes of them that added up to something overwhelming.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to remember that beautiful and astonishing moment they had placed Koro in her arm. He fit so neatly as if he’d always been there and was just coming back to her. Koro was hope itself. An actual physical manifestation of the hope for an entire planet. Maybe that was why they had to leave. Because the pressure on them both was too great and Sair knew she’d crumble under it more than she already had.

Opening her eyes and returning her gaze to Shedda, there was a mixture of uncertainty there, but also determination. “I risked everything to bring him into this world. He is the best of Kobliad, just like the other children born. For us, family is our highest value, even ahead of service. I don’t know what the answer is, but it’s clear it’s something I need to think over. Thank you for sharing. I will… take what you’ve said into consideration. But we should probably get back to the reviews or we’ll be here well into the night.”

Sair let her hand drop and her fingers brush the leaves of the tree, as if they might give her strength. Then she returned to her seat.

~Sair Songz, CNS