Familiar Faces

Posted on Wed Apr 16th, 2025 @ 9:37pm by Lieutenant Irynya

Mission: Mean Green Queen
Location: Iry's Quarters
Timeline: Mission Day 24 at 2100

[Iry's Quarters]
[MD 24; 2100 Hours]

The quiet lapping of distant waves shushing against warm sand created an ASMR-like white noise, rhythmic and soothing. Against the soundscape of the waves stood the warm sunset glow of Risa’s sun; the orange pink light suffusing the clouds and casting the long shadows of tropical trees across the sand. And then there was the warmth. Not heavy and humid, but temperate enough that anyone present would be tempted to shuck off layers and strip down to their skivvies for a mad dash to the water’s edge.

In the middle of it all, Irynya sat lotus-style on the pillowy softness of her bed. It had finally been replaced with the warm light wood bedframe. A khaki colored comforter flowing to meet warm red pillows while a burnt orange throw blanket that was normally folded at the end of the bed covered Iry’s legs. Warm skin peeked beyond it, her midriff slightly uncovered as the ever unruly SOJO top, this one a low cut sleeveless affair that she liked for exercise, crept up the curve of her waist.

Cupped in her hands was a small wooden figure, large headed with bowed legs and small arms. Her thumbs traced the wood carefully following well worn paths as if the statuette were a prayer talisman rather than a representation of fertility.

Sighing she raised her eyes to the wall she faced, her console set against it with the interface live and the warm face and black cascading curls of Marteli filled the screen, frozen with a look of soft understanding scrawled across her face and a soft affection in the chocolate brown of her eyes.

“Computer,” the Risian said to the air, hearing the odd dissonance of the computer’s confirming chime. “Replay message.”

At Irynya's command the other woman's features came alive before her, animated and warm. Marteli had always had a way of conveying intimacy to whomever she spoke–even across light years, wormholes, and weeks.

“Hey beautiful.” Warmth suffused her tone and Iry’s heart ached with homesickness.

“I got your messages. About Kennedy. And about Noah. And again about Noah.” A knowing look slid across her features, eyes twinkling and lips pursing slightly. “From the last message it sounded like you got that mix up sorted out on your own.” Here a softening at the corners of her eyes. “I’m glad you sent the first one anyway.”

Iry had listened to this message already. Several times in fact. And so she braced herself knowing that the pregnant pause and sigh that followed preceded words that would make her heart squeeze again.

“I miss you,” Marteli’s warm voice said–somehow both light and sad at the same time. As if her voice couldn’t decide which thing to express.

Iry’s fingers stilled on the horga’hn and then squeezed, pressing wood into the pads of her thumbs so hard that the skin whitened where it was pressed. “I miss you too,” she whispered to the recording.

At this point there was a rustling in the recording and a male tenor spoke up. “Are you talking to Iry?” the voice asked, demanding. In front of her Marteli rolled her eyes with affectionate annoyance.

“They wanted to say hi,” she told the screen just barely getting the statement in before two new faces loomed into the frame as Marteli moved to the side.

“Did you tell her that she should just find a non-human for woldelaht?” Tal asked pointedly. “I thought she had an Orion friend.” Then, as if realizing they were recording he looked at the screen. “What about your Orion friend?” he asked.

Wrena playfully pushed at his shoulder. “Timmoz. His name is Timmoz. And Iry was very clear in the second message that he was a great friend, but not a lover.”

Tal snorted, turning a sharp eye on his wife. “But it’s Iry? What’s wrong with the man?”

Even though she’d heard it before she couldn’t help grinning. Timmoz would have fit right in with this rabble, but of course not a one of them knew him or the very reasonable thought process behind not ever pursuing that line of thought.

“I know, I know,” Wrena responded with exasperation. “But she’d already had one man literally run away from her. I doubt she was eager to try for another.”

It was so normal. This discussion of each other’s love lives. So much so that even though the original message hadn’t been sent to Tal, Wrena, or Elwe–who would make an appearance in the message soon enough–that she’d had to stop herself from breaking in and reminding them that she was right there.

Because she hadn’t been. She was watching this weeks after it had been made.

“Oh knock it off you two,” Marti was saying, laughter in her voice. “We’re going to be weeks behind,” she reminded them, “and Kennedy will be a fond memory by the time this gets to her.”

“If that!”

This exclamation came from off camera, preceding the arrival of Elwe, her expression as fiery as her thick red curls. She nudged her way into the line of the camera between Tal and Wrena and the group shifted, naturally making space for her as if that spot had been hers all along and not occupied a moment before.

“What were you thinking Iry?” Wrena’s tone was chiding; firm in a way that felt kind while also brooking no dispute. “I know you're not talking about a planetary pool of choices, but from your description of his background… I mean… it seemed like he was all but afraid to kiss you. How did you see that working out?”

Elwe had always been the most painfully honest of them and even though Irynya didn't entirely agree, weeks of distance had helped her put her time with Kennedy into perspective. She had liked the attention. Loved it even. And she had liked him. But their interests had been mismatched from the start and it was easier to see that with time and distance. Apparently her friends had seen it sooner than she had.

A chorus of “oh leave her alone” and “it's not as if they're still together” overrode any further admonishment coming from the redhead, but not before Elwe muttered, “The other roommate would have made more sense.”

There was an instant clamber in response to this assertion with Wrena and Tal both half a sentence into their own reactions to Elwe’s claim before the camera moved, image tilting slightly, as Marteli picked it up. Friendly discussion of Irynya’s best friend outside of their circle was immediately replaced by a chorus of protest, but Marteli danced away with the group anyway, the camera’s view bobbing jerkily as she did. The route Marti followed was familiar, stirring old memories from the short time when this had been Irynya’s home too. Finally, Marti settled onto her bed. From the angle, Iry guessed the camera must have been cradled in her friend's hands.

“Ignore them,” she said with an affectionate grin. “Or. Well…” Her eyes darted from the camera to something behind it. The door probably. No doubt the other three had quickly returned to their interrupted lines of thought.

“Iry,” Marteli said with an eyebrow raised, “you know you talk more about Noah than you do… did… the man you were dating? I'm not saying…” Marteli’s shoulders rose and fell, the shrug graceful on her frame. “Just, it seems like he's better for you is all. Like… in general. Whether it's as a friend or…” she trailed off meaningfully, eyebrows raised in a pointed look that was impossible for Irynya to misunderstand. “Maybe you're already thinking about it. But… I know you… and I don't think you are… or… at least… you’re not admitting you are. I get it. Really. But if you were on my side of the line…”

Marteli sighed, running a hand back through dark hair. “It's weird giving you advice when it's going to be so far out of date. Like… I want to knock on your door and hug you and make you answer all of the questions your messages don't answer over delly ice and a bottle of wine.” Marteli’s expression turned wistful even as her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And we’d hash it out and maybe other things to help get your head on straight and then…” Marteli smirked, and popped her eyebrows.

She didn’t need to finish the thought. They’d long ago mastered the art of finishing statements with a glance or a touch.

“Computer, pause playback,” she said, watching Marti’s mischievous look freeze in place as if pinning her with a Well… am I wrong? sort of look.

Without much thought she set the horga’hn on the bed beside herself and wrapped her arms around her middle, squeezing. Her stomach squirmed, effervescent as if she’d drank something bubbly and now the bubbles had taken over her middle.

She didn’t know if Marteli was wrong. The night before there had been normal and then, something else. She’d fallen asleep replaying the short exchange from the corner plant to the bar with Noah over and over, seeing his cheeks and then his gaze. Almost feeling it on her. Unknotting her annoyance at Talbot and then at Bryad as he steered Noah away. She’d turned each word over as if it might unlock a puzzle, the shape of which she just couldn’t fully see.

And today she’d had a message from Marteli and she was giving her that look and suddenly things that had seemed quietly status quo scrambled for attention–warring with homesickness for dominance in her brain.

She sighed, unwrapped her arms, and raked both fingers back through her hair, clasping them behind her head for a moment as the dark strands wove between her fingertips. She scrunched them into her scalp, letting the tactile pressure help to release the uncertain tangle in her gut and then dropped her hands back to her lap.

“Resume playback,” she said to the screen and Marteli’s features unfroze.

“I know, I know,” she was saying, “I could be wrong.” Marteli’s laugh, the amusement of someone who has had this conversation before, tugged at the corners of Iry’s mouth.

“And even if I am, you Starfleet types have all sorts of rules and regulations and stuff. So maybe I’m not even close. Just do you, beautiful. Be you, lean into the good stuff and let the bad stuff go. Who knows? Certainly not you. And certainly not if you decide you’ve got no one else in your future.”

Irynya ducked her head, grinning now despite herself. It was such a Marteli thing to say. Such a Marteli thought to have.

“Now go be you,” Marteli paused, the moment pregnant with the kind of understanding that doesn’t require words before her expression cracked into a huge grin and she leaned into the camera conspiratorially. “And send me all the gory details, of course!” Face too close to the camera now, Marteli’s blew here a kiss and finger waved before looking up and beyond the camera again.

“Alright, alright!” she called, clearly speaking to the others in the room beyond. “Talk soon, beautiful!” she said as she turned her attention back to the camera before ending the message. Marteli’s face faded, replaced by the emulated beach scene on Irynya’s walls.

Irynya sighed, flopping back into the pillowy softness of her comforter with a whumph and staring at the ceiling. “Who knows?” she asked the air as if an answer might present itself. Silence and the sound of waves was all that answered and so she sat up again and drew in a breath.

“Computer, begin message to Marteli on Risa…” she paused, lips twisting sideways before she continued. “No, cancel.” She told the air. “Computer, locate Ensign Noah Balsam?”

The cool tones of the computer replied. “Ensign Balsam is in the computer core.”

“Ah,” she said, changing her plan. “Computer, begin message to Ensign Noah Balsam.”

A beep of confirmation indicated she could began.

“Hey,” she said, “it’s me. Sorry we haven’t had a chance to hang out today. I think I saw our shifts line up tomorrow. Debbie’s after? I could use some cheese sticks.”

----

The first of the two messages Marteli is responding to can be read here: White Flag