Backpost: Drone Decompression

Posted on Sat Jun 7th, 2025 @ 10:09pm by Ensign Noah Balsam & Lieutenant Irynya

Mission: Seven Souls
Location: Noah/Sheldon/Irynya's Quarters (4-13)
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1300

[Backpost]
[Day 17, "Place of Skulls," 1300 Hours]
[Deck 4]

"Noah."

The youth blinked. The voice did not come from outside, but as an intrusive thought. Centuries this might've been almost schizophrenic, but Noah knew it was the opposite. She was... a friend. She'd helped him through one of the most traumatic periods of his life. She was "Ayah"- not a person so much as a subroutine. Noah had based some of Index's programming on this Catullan piece of bio-neural self-care programming.

"Your cortisol levels seem unusually high. You only slept four hours, twenty-three minutes and failed to enter REM period. Something appears to be bothering you."

Noah gave voice to his inner thoughts. "Well that's what happens when something tries to shoot your junk off, Aya." Here his voice was what he wished it could be- steady, unimpeded by a mind that outpaced his lips and tongue. Free of stutter.

"By junk you are referring to-" Aya delved.

"My dick, Aya. I was just lucky. My first Away Team mission and I almost got neutered."

"Would you like me to block the neuro-activity of the pathways to this particular memory for a few hours?" Her dulcet tone soothed with the offer. And it was tempting but Noah was keenly aware of the last time she'd asked him that too. It had been years. And what she was insinuating was block the intrusive thinking loop so he could sleep.

Noah smiled and shook his head, "No. I'll just deal with it for a little awhile. But if I need to, I'll ask." He thought toward the program. He could feel its acquiescence: a strange feeling much like when someone knows a room is occupied, and then when one knows it is empty. He returned to what he was doing.

Noah's eyes closed and he nibbled his bottom lip. The room was blissfully quiet- or at least as quiet as a starship got. He could feel the vibrations of the inertial dampeners. It sort of felt like soft ebbs of a tide head forward, toward the bow of the ship. The ship was at... he'd guess about warp six. "Computer..." He began again, then with a head tilt he grimaced. His brows popped. "Um... play-playback the last stanza." Noah listened as the sound of rounded guitar acoustic wound their way to his ear.

Noah had been working on this since his trip to France with his Academy mates. But he'd only recently had time to pick it up again. He felt that strange disconnect from it, that question of, 'Did I really write this?' and 'What did I mean by this part?' The idea was no longer fresh. It was a winding guitar tune that he could feel some of the inspiration from: a guitariste from a cafe had caught his ear and he'd sat to listen while some of his friends had gone to dinner.

Now he wondered if his lyrics and the stanza at the beginning was meandering too much. Rambling. Was he rambling in music form? And was that so bad? "Repeat." Noah said, wetting his lips with a dash of his tongue. His eyes squinted as if flexing those muscles would bring him back to that moment. He lifted his guitar and laid it into his lap. The wood was cool and smooth against his belly and the depression between his pecs.

---

The whoosh of a door opening ushered Irynya back into the common room of her quarters. Although it had barely been 2 weeks it had begun to evoke a feeling of home and the step across the threshold brought with it an unknotting of muscles, the remnants of her on duty self bleeding away to something more tired. She'd detoured on her way back to her quarters, stopping to sit with Chaali for a bit--debriefing after the showdown with the drones on the bridge the day prior, but also making sure her friend--who was expecting her first child--was ok mentally and emotionally. Iry's imagination was good enough to conjure up a sense of the panic she would have felt were she in Chaali's shoes.

For the umpteenth time the Risian found herself thankful for the effectiveness of modern medicine. Her mind drifted slightly, thinking of Kennedy and the stream of patients he was caring for. He'd be working longer shifts alongside t'Nai who was bridging the gap between her Acting XO duties and those of the CMO. It seemed they might all be ships passing in the night for a while.

Another whoosh signaled the closing of the doors behind her and she bent to unlace her boots, getting one about halfway undone before she stopped, freezing in place as the quiet sound of music filtered into the room from... Where?

Straightening she followed the sound, curious at its source. Kennedy was in Sickbay. She'd checked his schedule already. And Sheldon...

She frowned. No. She felt confident she'd have known if this were his musical taste. Besides that it wasn't coming from their room.

The melody stopped, followed by silence, and Iry stopped with it, holding her breath as if she might miss the sound again if she so much as exhaled. And then it was back. The same part on repeat. She with a release of breath she found herself humming, lightly, a counter point to it, broken and not quite right, but with a few harmonies picked out.

And then it stopped again and, absently, her cheek found its way between her teeth as she considered. Either Noah was listening to a few bars of music repeatedly or he was, perhaps, creating the music. Maybe practicing it? She wasn't sure and more so she wasn't sure if he'd appreciate being interrupted. But the music was back again and between her curiosity and the draw of the music itself she found herself standing in front of the door to the room he and Kennedy shared and triggering the signal. She'd just sate her curiosity and then she'd let him be... if he even decided to answer the door.

The music stopped after something muffled- likely Noah saying to the computer, pause. The doors whispered open into a warm, lowly-lit room. It was divided in a neat half- one half almost anally so. The side closest to Irynya- Kennedy's half- was minimalist and spartan. Noah's had a more lived in feel. Shelves were up, his desk an arranged chaos of presumably engineering bit.

"Oh. Uhh. Hi." Cadet Balsam, a few inches from Irynya's face, took a step back and began to button up his flannel. "Kennedy's um, not here right now. I-I think he's in Sickbay." He flashed a quick, apologetic and too-wide smile. "Um... I can leave him a message... if you want?" He added, tugging on his flannel's bottom.

"You don't have to do that on my account," she commented, indicating the buttons his long fingers were pressing through button holes with impressive speed and dexterity. "I mean..." She trailed off both invoking the accidental bathroom run in they had experienced not that long ago and not wanting to say much more about it. She'd hoped that there wouldn't be any lingering awkwardness and wasn't sure if the immediate buttoning was a side effect of that incident.

"And... Umm.." here her tone was less sure, though her eyes scanned the room behind him as she spoke, "I thought I heard music and... you know... wanted..." What had she wanted exactly? "...to hear more, I guess. It was lovely."

Noah paused his buttons for a moment and then smiled with a head shake. "Oh uh." And again he shook his head, and blinked. "Old, uh, culturally Jewish modesty... now Enceladan." He shrugged it off. His brows popped. "Oh, my music?" he grimaced. "Sorry I forgot to ask the computer for a privacy field. But um.. thanks." After a moment of hesitation, Noah turned around and picked up his guitar. "I'll play out here, if you want... just so you know, I'm really rusty." Noah sidled past through the door.

With one last glance into Noah's freshly vacated room, Irynya turned and followed him to the couch. The guitar held the bulk of her attention. It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar instrument--there was something like it on Risa, though it had fewer strings and a curved back. She'd never played it herself, but recognized the posture of someone who knew their instrument by the way Noah seemed to curl around it, the back of the instrument pressed against his recently clothed chest while one hand circled the top of the instrument.

"I'm glad you forgot the privacy shield," she said as she sat, perching near enough that she could see, but not so near that she was invading his space. "I don't know what you consider rusty, but what I heard sounded good. Was it a song from Enceladus?"

"Oh no," Noah shook his head while he settled on the small couch. He curled into his instrument with a practiced intimacy between player and protected object. His fingers wrapped the neck of it. "Um." he grimaced. "Enceladus has a lot going for it but..." His nose crinkled. "I-I wouldn't exactly say we have a proud musical tradition." His brows rose at that as he relieved a memory. "I mean, we-we like music..." He smiled into a cheek. "Mostly Vulcan music. And... Bynar music." His head tilted with a wince, "And Arcturan hymns celebrating mathematics in nature." Noah's dark, Betazoid-like eyes glanced at Irynya. "Lots of... precision."

He shrugged. "Anyway... it's one I started trying to write before I left for Antares, I-I sort of forgot about it with all the shakedown repairs." Noah tilted his head, "Are you musical?" His eyes widened, "I-I don't mean that as any kind of stereotype."

This drew a warm chuckle from the Risian. "Some stereotypes are earned," she said, mirth in her eyes. "We're not all musical. But music education is prioritized. Music is a very," she paused considering her words and then forged ahead anyway, "effective social lubricant." Even as she said it the statement felt too crass to truly express what she meant. "I mean... It helps people relax and connect," she added hastily.

Noah smiled at that. "Yeah. It is." His memories of "alternative" music styles, and the salty tang of pizza aromas, drew him into a second of nostalgia.

Then, eyes widening, she realized she hadn't actually answered his question. "And. Uh. Yes. I am a bit. I can sing pretty well." She caught her top lip with her teeth for a moment then redirected the conversation. "The bit you were playing didn't sound Vulcan. Or Bynar or..." She shrugged. "So you wrote it?"

"Mmmhmm," he nodded as he rose and crab-walked sideways past the coffee table. He ordered a tawny brown, watery drink with ice in it. "Want one?" He asked.

"Yes please," she replied without hesitation. Following a beat behind that she added, "What is it?"

"Chief B-Basheer," Noah began. "He supervises, uh... computer, another." With a whirl of light, sound and an odd static field, another drink was born, identical to Noah's. "Sorry. My chief suggested I try it. It's something he drinks called... a Horchata?"

In the few moments Noah was away from his seat Irynya had scooted closer. Peering at the stringed instrument with the eye of someone taking in new details and piecing them together in her head. Her fingers itched to trace the strings just to know how they felt, but she refrained. An instrument was often a very personal thing and if body language was to be trusted that held true to Noah. So instead she studied, following the long textured strands up the thin strip of wood punctuated by metal bars to where they wound around a series of pegs.

Noah approached and offered out Irynya her drink. It clinked with ice, smelling very sweet and with an earthy spice. But it was also frothy on top. The color was... perhaps not its most appealing feature. It was a very light, anemic tan. A stick of some kind, that like brittle and curled into itself, was plunged into the drink.

Noah returned to where he'd sat. "It was a gift from s-somebody I knew when I got into the Academy." He remarked. "Replicated. But. I don't care. I love it. The thought counts. Maybe someday I'll get a handmade one." He smiled quickly. "Um. Ready?" He lifted his drink and was about to sip it for the first time.

Having accepted the proffered glass she was back to inspecting the guitar, eyes moving from it to Noah's face and back again as he describe its origins. She was about to asked what might be involved in a hand made version when he held up his glass.

"Ready," she agreed and shifted the cold beverage beneath her nose. She inhaled, picking up immediately on the sweetness, but noting something else--foreign but also familiar in the way that spices from other races sometimes came into regular use in one's own. Without a further moment of hesitation she put the cool glass to her lips and sipped. As liquids go this one was... textured. Thick and creamy, but inconsistent as if the creaminess was made up of something that wasn't entirely integrated. The sweetness was unmissable and her lips twitched upward as she swallowed and took another, longer, sip. There was more to it than sweetness. The complimentary spice reminded her of baked goods she'd tried during her time at the Academy and the graininess... that was harder to place. A sort of basic undertone of a flavor that seemed to both disperse and somehow highlight the sweetness.

With another swallow she lowered her cup and drew the back of her hand across her mouth where a bit of the creamy liquid seemed determined to stay, raising her eyebrows in an unspoken question as she did.

Noah had, meanwhile, taken a sip of his own. And the twist of his mouth, the crunch of his brows, suggested he didn't much care for it. He set it down on the table and resumed his guitar in his lap. "Too sweet for me. I-I normally like cinnamon. But its really sweet." He shrugged as he began to compulsively tune. "I like the cold, uh, though." he tried to attach a compliment to it. And it wasn't bad-bad. He'd just really need to be in the mood for sweet.

"What do you think?" He asked, chin-jutting at her drink. He strummed a golden, warm sound on the hollow of his guitar. Just striking subsequent chords.

"It's good," she said, sipping again. "Definitely sweet... not something I'd drink fast... but I like it. I've always had a bit of a sweet tooth. And cinnamon! That's the name of it. I've had that before, but I couldn't remember the word for it. Not sure how I feel about the chewy bits, though. Or... I guess they're not chewy, but... grainy?" It was a hard texture to place.

Noah's eyes blinked and his mouth opened. "Oh... wa-wait, don't eat those. That's cinnamon. It just soaks. It's pretty... woody."

This earned him a giggle as the Risian, deadpan, selected the curling woody piece and removed it from her cup, popping it in her mouth to remove any traces of the drink and then, after withdrawing it whole and not really knowing where to put it, holding it cupped in her hand. "I meant the liquid... it's... thick? Like... the creaminess isn't entirely smooth." She pulled a face, lips pursing and curling sideways as she wrinkled her nose. "I'm not describing this very well."

She did her best to provide this response looking directly at Noah's face. It seemed the most polite thing. But his fingers were adjusting the small knobs at the end of the instrument and then his other hand was pulling across the open space in the middle of the body and the resulting chords that rang out were stiff competition for her attention. It was impossible to miss the way Noah's fingers curled and pressed as if they were made for an instrument like this. Or perhaps an instrument like this made for him.

She took another sip of her drink, happy to listen for a moment as he fiddled with the knobs, before finally asking the question that had been lingering at the back of her head since she'd stopped in front of his door. "Would you play the one you were working on?" she asked and then, seeming to realize that requests might not be welcome, added, "I mean... if it's not private or anything. I kept catching this line..." She tried to hum it for him, doing it paltry justice as she did.

"Oh uh. Sure. It doesn't have a name yet." Noah's fingers re-positioned and he began the song he'd been playing before. After several chords, he mis-stroked a a string and then guffawed a grimace of apology. "Sorry, that was supposed to be an A. That was pretty, uh, flat." Noah flexed his fingers, wiggling them and then shaking them out. "It's not.... not super personal exactly. I started it when I was in France. I was listening to the guitarist near the center of town." He strummed the strings in golden fashion again. "So... you you sing? Is anyone else musical in your family?"

"Yeah," she said, "I do. My parents are half decent singers too and my mom plays the flute a bit. More as a hobby than, you know, anything formal." She smiled and, focusing for a moment on the chords he was strumming hummed a bit of the melody he had played overtop of it when he struck a chord that sounded right. It was only a bar or two, but when she finished it up she grinned delightedly at him. "Musical training is one of the core parts of education and... umm... Risian culture. I mean... I'm not any kind of special talent. If you want to hear real Risian singers you need to hear Olyrea. Her voice is..." Iry's eyes widened meaningfully and she shook her head. "Yeah, it's good. What about you? I mean, you play. What about your family?"

With a purse of his lips and an irreverent shake of his head, Noah answered. "Nooo. No. My parents are strictly scientists. And my brother's idea of fun, is-is a telling people why they're wrong. And then fighting about it." He strummed it again and then re-positioned his fingers at the neck. "When they played music in the house... and-and that was an if... it was something like Vulcan chords. But really they just preferred talking, debating or the news." His brows popped, "Or quiet reading which, uh, I get but... not all the time." He looked at her. "Olyrea? Do you think the computer has any of theirs in the archives?"

Iry considered a moment and then shrugged. "Honestly I don't know. Can't hurt to ask though." Her gaze slid to the middle distance in front of her then, not pausing to double check with Noah before making her request. "Computer, play Olyrea, musical artist from Risa. Heaven's Thread if you have it."

The computer chirped in confirmation and then a moment later a honey warm female voice filled the room underpinned by a stringed instrumental that resembled the guitar Noah held in sound if nothing else.

They listened. Noah stilled. It had a... a quality... he was familiar with. Perhaps music in the universe did. That was what made it so alluring. Some music was strange- Xindi Insectoids and the Jarada came to Noah's mind- some was purposefully harsh and discordant. Tellarite music. Risian music seemed bent on a similar philosophy to Human music. It "swung." It swayed and encouraged Noah's feet to tap and his fingers to snap in a pendulum way. He seemed to catch the beat with some kind of ease.

"Not bad at all... now that I'm hearing it, I think I either her or someone like her when we visited Portland once. In my second year. Does she tour?" His brows popped, "Err I mean... if she's still alive?"

The Risian's face lit at the intimation that Olyrea might not be a new musician to Noah. "She does! And She's definitely done tours on earth. So it definitely could have been her."

A grin lingering on her features, Irynya took a shot at the chorus of the song, unable to help herself. Her voice, though in tune, had a rougher less trained quality to it. It wasn't the voice of someone who didn't know their way around music, but unlike the recorded piece they'd just listened to there were a few spots where breath demanded earlier replenishment and the occasional note swooped up to the correct one from a slight flat. When she stopped she found herself shy, a feeling she rarely encountered. "I always liked that one," she said in pseudo apology.

"Mmm, y-you don't need to apologize.. it was... it was nice." Noah smiled. he strummed his guitar at an approximation and the chorus he'd been able to hear a few times. It was far from exact but... not bad for a first go. When his fingers tripped over the bridge, he grimaced and chuckled and stopped playing. The stolen moments had been nice, though Noah could feel the haunt of the day before on the asteroid still in the wings. "Do... you think the Captain will find whatever we're looking for?" Noah asked with a slow glance toward her.

The smile that had lit her features at his comment dimmed ever so slightly as Irynya considered his question. "I've served under Captain Kodak on two ships now," she said slowly. "If there is anyone who can find what he's looking for it's him," she continued working to infuse as much confidence as she could into her voice. She did believe what she said, but it had been far from an easy road so far when they ship itself was just barely out of space dock. Her glance slid over to Noah and the guitar and she cocked her head to the side. "I was on the bridge and heard some of what happened down there. If you ever want to talk about it..." she trailed off, hoping he didn't think she was prying.

"Y-yeah." Noah scratched his cheek. "Thanks I'll... you know... I'll think about it. Still processing. Away Teams seem dangerous." Noah strummed his guitar and then set it aside. She wasn't quite prying, but Noah was still working it out in his head and talking about it seemed to stiffen some sort of interior defense. He'd felt it before during traumatic moments. "Anyway." He sighed and smiled a smile that reached his eyes. "I'm going to head back in to my room. I've got some subspace messages to send. And I have this new model I want to paint."

Sensing he wasn't going to go further Iry nodded her understanding. "Thanks for playing a bit for me," she said, inclining her head toward his guitar. "That piece you're working on is pretty. I'd love to hear it when it's done too." She stood then, dusting her hands down the front of her thighs as if dusting them off, and then grabbed her half finished drink and raised it in a sort of toast. "I'm off to get into something less..." she gestured at her duty uniform, still in on duty form with the exception of her one half unlaced boot. She shrugged, gave him a warm smile and then turned and disappeared into her room.

Noah followed her leave with his eyes, smiling at her at their last eye contact. He'd murmured he'd let her know when he finished it- though sometimes Noah wondered if it was an if- an if he finished it. But he would try. He rose and took his neck by the guitar. She was nice, he thought, as he went back inside the comfort of his room.

A Backpost By

Lieutenant JG Irynya
Assistant Chief Flight Controller

Midshipman Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist in Training