Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Aatami Myasnikov (Navigator) in pre-sim, a chat with Myasnikov

Posted by Captain Th’elin Zarath (Commanding Officer) in pre-sim, a chat with Myasnikov

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Aatami Myasnikov (Navigator) in pre-sim, a chat with Myasnikov
Posted by… suppressed (11) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Whenever the young Russian got off duty, he’d find a small, hand-written note waiting on his desk. It simply said:

“Mr. Myasnikov, please come to my quarters at your earliest convenience.” The signature at the bottom edge of the paper was simply a ‘Z’.

-Zarath, CO

Aatami read the note and stuck it in his pocket. He had been heading to meet a very friendly JG from the Science department, but he sent her a comm and said he’d let her know when he was done. He made his way to the Captain’s quarters, arriving eight minutes after the end of the shift. He pressed the chime and waited, curious as to what the impromptu meeting was about.

Myasnikov, Navigator

The door slid open and The’lin’s voice said “C’mon in, Aatami.” The Captain’s quarters were a lot dimmer than the corridor, and about five degrees colder. The Andorian was seated at a modest desk which was in a partitioned off ‘office’ section of his room. On the desk was a bottle of clear liquid and two tumblers, set beside the small computer terminal. “Please, sit down. Thanks for coming by.” The’lin began to pour drinks, making sure to sit the bottle equidistant between them as he’d been taught was a Russian custom.

The CO’s quarters were sparsely decorated. He seemed to have very few personal comforts, though there were a few knick-knacks on the shelves and a picture or two of a group of several other Andorians. One wall held a small painting of a strange-looking steamship cutting its way through an icy ocean, clearly an oil painting, and very old. The other three walls were bare, save for a plaque above the entry door which held two oddly shaped bladed weapons which looked like axes blended with daggers. These wouldn’t be noticeable until Myasnikov sat down.

-Zarath, CO

Myasnikov entered with his usual grin on his face and nodded as the Captain spoke. “Of course, sir.” he said and took his seat. He looked around the room and then back to the Captain and said “Ni vercopa Ni cuy’ not o’r major’, alor’ad.” (I hope I am not in trouble, Captain.) in Andorian. His pronunciation was very good; he was probably just a few months of study from fluency.

Myasnikov, Navigator

OOC: Fixing italicized.

Bump

Bump

(OOC: Apologies, brother… It’s been a bad couple days.)

The Captain’s eyebrows rose and he grinned widely. “Pirusti, gar rucuyir not…” (Well, you weren’t…) He replied with a chuckle. “A Ni ru’kir rejorhaa’ir gar ibac ibic dialect cuyir shi johayc acyk Andori’i related de tal ra clan… Bid unless gar’re planning bat dating ner vod, imperial andori’i cuyir te proper dialect.” (But I should tell you that this dialect is only spoken between Andorians related by blood or clan… So unless you’re planning on dating my sister, Imperial Andori’i is the proper dialect.) The’lin laughed.

Myasnikov grinned and, knowing the Andorian preference for ‘brave’ remarks, said “Pirusti then Jatne vod, Ni ganar at tionir… shi pehea cute cuyir gar vod?” (Well then Sir, I have to ask… just how attractive is your sister?)

“I’m impressed, you speak it very well.. It’s a shame you’re not blue.” The’lin raise his glass in salute.

-Zarath, CO

“Not everyone can be perfect, Sir.” Myasnikov replied.

Myasnikov, Navigator

“Quite correct, none of us are perfect… Talented, driven, educated… But still so many on this crew are young and inexperienced.” The Andorian said, enjoying the burn of the alcohol. “So I wanted to ask you here because I want to know what kind of man you are, Myasnikov. What drives you? What is it you yearn for? Why Space? Why Sentinel?” His dark eyes rested on the young Russian, not displeased, or demanding… but definitely curious.

-Zarath, CO

Myasnikov looked at the Andorian for a long time before speaking. “What I year for is new experiences. Seeing new places, new species… learning how diverse the galaxy can be. Why space?” and he laughed. “Because I can fly faster. And the Sentinel is a great ship… there are lots of opportunities for ‘new’ on this ship.” and his voice trailed off, and the steadfast smile that always featured on his face slipped a little.

When he next spoke, there was a definite edge to his voice, and one that seemed to contradict his norlam cheerful and friendly demeanor. This edge made all the stories of Russian temper and potential capacity for brutality seem more plausible. “As to what drives me… my brother’s memory. We… did not get along when I was younger. I thought he was too brutish. I thought he thought I was too bookish. It wasn’t until he was killed that I learned I was wrong… and by then it was too late. So… I do what I do to make sure he will be proud of me when I see him again. And to make sure that his desire to see the name Myasnikov in the annals of Star Fleet history is upheld by more than him being a victim of some cowardly terrorists.”

Myasnikov, Navigator

The Andorian took all of this in placidly, his face a statue of stone save for his soflty moving antennae. When the young man finished speaking, The’lin stood up slowly and moved across the room to the entry door, over which hung the plaque with the two interesting blades mounted on them. He reached up and took the plaque down, holding it in his hands, his back to Myasnikov. “There’s a thing about memories, Mr. Myasnikov. You’re stuck with them. For good or ill.” Then he pulled one of the bladed weapons off the plaque and looked at it closely.

“Have you ever killed anyone, Aatami?” The words were softly spoken, but there was steel in them.

-Zarath, CO

Aatami watched the Captain with interest but not fear. “Not directly, sir, no. I had someone try to outfly me during an unsactioned race and I clipped them and they crashed; but I think that was because they were a crap pilot.” he replied evenly.

Myasnikov, Navigator

The Andorian turned to face the Russian again his eyes filled with interest. “So you consider the fault of the death to be wholly on this other pilot?” The’lin asked, curious.

The Captain set the plaque down on the table in front of Myasnikov. If the man could read the ingraved Andori’i script, he’d know they were ice cutting blades used in ritual challenge combat. A combat that always ended in the death of the defeated party. “It’s been my experience that loss of life is never easy, or simple… There’s always a moral issue, no matter how you slice it. There’s always a reason to doubt your own responsibility, a reason to question yourself. However, we cannot shy from that, as officers. Sometimes you must sacrifice one life to save others. Sometimes there’s an accident that you must clean up after. As an Officer, the responsibility for the actions of those under your command lies with you, and you alone. The hands of an officer can never stay truly clean, Aatami. Sometimes you must sacrifice your own innocence in a matter, to make the difference. Some day, someone’s blood will stain you. Is that a thing you can live with? Further more… Is that something you can embrace as part of who you are? Not allow it to change you?”

-Zarath, CO