Only the Rest of Your Life

Posted on Thu Aug 19th, 2021 @ 3:20am by Ensign Noah Balsam
Edited on on Sat Oct 1st, 2022 @ 8:44pm

Mission: The Place of Skulls
Location: Crew Quarters on Deck 4
Timeline: Mission Day 5 at 2200

[Crew Quarters, Deck 4]
[2200 Hours]
[Following "Welcome to... Quarks?]

He could feel it at the edge of his consciousness. Eyes shut, first in a blink, then in a squint. Lips tucked into the other. A 25 centimeters by 28 centimeters PADD was sitting on his bed. Light Navy Blue comforter, quilted, from home, the Bright Thinktank logo on the corner. Two pillows- one for his head, one between his knees. He could see it staring back at him through space. And he'd been worried, excited... pulled in every direction.

Lieutenant Chaali, the Bolian Chief Operations Manager with the funny wigs, had handed it to him in the Holo-Lab. Noah could remember feeling so stupid when all that effort to recompile whatever someone had hit them with was an errant ad for a bar on Deep Space Nine. He'd tucked it away to finish his job. The events of the day before- the attack at Ch'Othil- had done serious damage to one of the subprocessors. And while everything "worked fine," it was, in the Engineer's mind, the equivalent of going into battle with one boot off.

That and the Engineering crew were in chaos. The Chief Engineer was down and the scuttlebutt was, he wasn't coming back. Whatever happened to him had been bad. So not only were they one boot off down there, but they were headless. Giorgiou may have preferred an egalitarian approach where experts knew what to do because they were experts. But five days wasn't a lot of time for that model to sink in.

Everything felt unsettled and part of Noah was glad to not be in Engineering much. The computer core had its own chaos, but it was chaos he felt like he could help with.

He stared down the skinny plank of his chest, his finger and thumb met with soap in between. No amount of blowing bubbles through your fingers, he told himself, was going to change the contents of that letter. He flexed his fingers and the soap between popped. Normally Noah just did a sonic shower in the morning. But the feeling of the water against his sodden hair and scalp had something to it. It was distant but he knew its sympathetic strand: his mother used to tap on his face and head when he was feeling overstimulated. And after his accident, his therapist had shown him some techniques to help re-center his spinning mind on the physical.

Tap tap tap. Tap your head. Tap your face. Tap the backs of your arms, even.

The shower chirped at him. Noah swayed, his eyes refocusing off his fingers. Bubbles pop. Bubbles float. Sometimes they were beautiful. Sometimes they didn't last very long. Sometimes they never made it past his fingers.

"Your water allowance will be exceeded in one minute," the feminine voice of the computer said, nearly drowned out from the fall of the shower water.

Long fingers pressed into the flat white control screen and lit yellow. It pulsed. Noah quickly washed the soap off himself and just in time. As rivulets of it streamed down his lank curls, it stopped. He reached for his towel and dried off his hair and then wrapped his towel around his waist. It hung to about his knees. Noah stood in front of the mirror. And he could feel himself both stalling and itching. He looked at his jawline. Twenty-one, and he couldn't grow much more than some darkish fuzz. Still, he went for his wide beam razor and eyed its controls. He sniffed through his long, aquiline nose while the first of his wet curls fell into his face. With an annoyed swipe, he pushed them back.

The razor hummed and he ran the bluish light over the contours of his jaw, neck, chin, and finally upper lip. Hands switched devices- a conical silver thing. he flicked it on. This one was purplish. He lifted his arms and scanned his armpits, the em bands killing any resident bacteria that caused body odor, that he could have missed in the shower. He undid his towel enough to do the same to the jewels.

Noah flicked it up. he leaned on the vanity and hyperextended his elbows. He could feel the panic. To him, it was like someone was tickling his insides with a low-grade power source. He studied his face and sighed at a small red bump in his eyebrow. "Stupid pimples..." he muttered. he fished in his bag and brought out a small dermal applicator. He tugged at his eyebrow's tapered end to taut the skin and then ran the cleaning beam around the redness.

He'd done enough. Noah did up his pack of hygiene care and set it in his cubby space with a tap of a finger. The cubby opened up in the wall, and closed with a soft hush when he pushed.

When Noah ushered himself out of the bathroom, he found the common area dark. Parsons and Irynya were either not there, or in their room. Noah walked on tiptoe, holding his towel in place while he long-leg slinked across the space to the far room. His doors hissed open. And swished inside as quickly as he could to kill that last-minute chance that someone would walk in. That, and to avoid too much light glaring into the darkness of his bedroom.

He couldn't see it. But he could sense it in the dark. The PADD with his future on it. He'd read, "University of Cendo-Prae," with the overlay of Starfleet Academy on a second look.

"Sorry," he whispered when he heard Kennedy Walsh stir.

Kennedy mumbled something incoherently and rolled over to his side looking torwards the closest wall, "Cozy."

Noah had backed against the door frame when he'd heard his roommate. Once it felt settled, Noah again slinked to his bed. When he sat down on his mattress- and his comfortable, worn old Bright Thinktank comforter- the PADD lit up. Noah bit his lip. Looking back and hoping his roommate was asleep, Noah lifted his butt enough to undo his towel and pull it free. Then at least he could sit and shield Walsh from anything more revealing than a spine one could kind of count ribs on. He bent and after a couple of unsuccessful tries, he opened his cabinet. He found a pair of briefs and threaded them on past long legs.

Noah finally laid on his comforter. One pillow he shoved under his head and the other under his knees. He tapped at his arms while he cradled the PADD in his lap. "Its only the rest of your life..." he whispered to himself. Pursed lips pushed breath out between them. Noah called up the message. His dark eyes scanned the words.

"To Cadet Noah Hyman Balsam, Starfleet Academy, Operations Divisions...." he read. He forced himself to skip some. "Your performance percentile of theoretical knowledge and practical competence are above our entry requirements..." Noah felt himself hold his breath.

"We regret to inform you that, due to the ongoing political and sentient rights tensions between the United Federation of Planets Governing Council and the Opposition League of which Catulla is a member, the University of Cendo-Prae cannot offer you a position in the Pre-Masters Forum for Advanced Positronics and Intelligence Research."

Noah felt his shoulders fall. "We thank you for your interest and your application. The University of Cendo-Prae, Forum for Advanced Positronics and Intelligence Research remains committed to the ideals set out in the Federation charter that all life, however created, regardless of origin and without exception has worth. We unilaterally reject United Federation of Planets' Security Council Emergency Powers Bill 871671-A-87 as an attack on the sentient rights of Emergent Infolife and other forms of Artificial Learning Intelligences."

Noah blinked his eyes. "Thank you for your interest. Most Sincerely...." He read along and trailed off. Noah pushed the power key and his PADD shut off, giving back the room and its sleeping occupant the umbral night. "Fuck..." Noah muttered. His eyes squinted and he felt warm wetness in his lashes. "Fuck...." He sniffed, got up, and shoved the PADD into his desk, as if he could somehow banish what he'd read. He dropped into his desk chair, twiddling thumbs over themselves. His eyes felt heavy but he was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep.

It was only the rest of his life.

A Post By:

Midshipman Noah Hyman Balsam
Systems Specialist

&

A Special Appearance By:

Doctor Ryan Kennedy Walsh
Medical Officer