Mail Call

Posted on Sun Jan 11th, 2026 @ 2:29am by Lieutenant Irynya & Ensign Noah Balsam

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Federation Subspace and Courier Services
Timeline: Mission Day 19 at 1115

She was a veritable sorceress, a whirl of four arms of efficiency. A stylish curl of gold leaf emerged from her nostril, cupped the bottom round of her cheek and spiraled about her ear. Her ear was partly obscured by a shock of almost electric red frizz, the type that belonged as a centerpiece to one of Debbie Gless' many wigs.

She wear an otherwise unflattering taupe jumpsuit that, against her pale flesh, seemed to give her a jaundiced look. Her plump cheeks flanked a smile with a hint of large front teeth. She was a Terellian- best known as a people with four equally dexterous arms. She smiled at the patrons who had come by to collect the messages that were either too sensitive, too large or too encoded to transmit over standard subspace. That, or they were of a physical nature- packages, boxes or bags.

Behind her was a great assay office of tediously neat storage boxes. Other couriers were scanning front-facing thumbscan interfaces. Some stepped to the step box, some, with a click or beep, took the box contents and brought it to a waiting patron.

"... With forty-nine percent of the interstellar vote in, the election for Federation President and Vice President remains in a three-way dead heat between the Betazoid Consul Rames Jora, the conservative candidate from the New Republic Bloc; First Minister Baara vin Dorag of Tellar Prime, of the New Coalition Party, and Naomi Bangu Wade of the Outer Worlds Commonwealth, Sol, the progressive candidate in the Green Bloc. Another data packet of subspace results are expected to be released at around 1700 hours Local Earth Time..."

Noah was fidgeting with the mild, quietly subtle vibrations of someone feeling mild anxiety. Or perhaps it was just coffee jitters. He was chewing on the center of his pointer finger nail, having caught it at breakfast and made the edge of it ragged.

Next to him Irynya stood with arms crossed under her breasts, taking in all of the commotion. It held a hint of chaos in her estimation, though even that hint was heavily scheduled, organized, tagged, and coordinated. She shifted, peering around the woman in front of them who appeared to either be very familiar with the Terellian woman or determined to make her a close acquaintance. Her eyes skimmed sideways noting the fingernail between Noah's teeth. "Doesn't that hurt?" she asked, curious. She'd seen him do this before and it always made her wince.

"Huh?" He hadn't even realized he was doing it. With a string of spittle that snapped almost immediately, Noah pulled his fingernail from between his fingers. "Oh uh, sorry. Sometimes. If you get to the quick by-by accident. I just..." He trailed off and decided it didn't bear more explanation. It wasn't his best habit and, with a light on it, he retreated it back to the shadows. "Did you- or who did you vote for?" Noah gestured at the FNN broadcast.

He skewed his face in a small knot of lips, "I don't think Ghem Tirvalbinchan cracked the, uh, ten percent mark." Noah shook his head. He shrugged, "That's who I voted for."

Iry considered the feed from FNN wondering absently how close it truly was to real time. When had the wormhole last opened? She tried to remember, but couldn't quite pull the detail to mind. It didn't matter either way. She'd resigned herself to the delay of information when she was first on the Adelphi and was at least somewhat numb to the sting of hearing galactic events well after their completion. "I voted for Domina Juris," she answered, eyes still on the broadcast as the numbers shifted slightly showing Rames Jora in a minuscule lead. Clearly the last data packet hadn't significantly changed the results. Her gaze dropped to the woman in front of them who was now leaning on the counter, gesticulating with her free hand as she recounted who knew what to the Terellian woman across the counter.

"What made you choose Tirvalbinchan?" she asked, shifting her attention back to Noah.

"They're the Technoprogressive Socialist candidate." Noah's eyes tracked that they were likely next and possibly had as little time as second. His arms folded his skinny chest. "Sssort of a protest vote?" He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, "But they advocate for, uh, a looser policy or an opt-out policy on technology bans." Noah flexed his nose bridge. "A lot of what is and isn't allowed with technology is based mostly on Earth's experiences and feelings. Where Earth leads the Federation seems to follow."

"Yeah, I've noticed that," Iry said before pursing her lips. "And that makes sense. I mean that you voted for them." More than sense, she thought. She knew that the synthetics ban had put a wrench in some of Noah's plans. And yet she had the uncomfortable feeling that comes from being the beneficiary of something unfortunate. Perhaps if there hadn't been a ban he wouldn't have been assigned to Sojo. And she wouldn't have met him. And... And...

The woman in front of them, finally, moved away from the counter leaving a trail of some kind of scent in her wake. Iry glanced at Noah, eyebrows raised just in time for the Terellian behind the counter to lift one of her appendages to wave them forward.

Noah's nose seemed to flex and wiggle at the very alien scent: something like frankincense and... gamey meat? "Come on sweetums, I haven't got all day," the Terellian chirped in a delighted singsong, the type of tone that was practiced and a diplomatic veneer. She was a pro. "Welcome to the Pathfinder Assay and Post. How can I help you?"

Noah gestured for Irynya to be able to go first. "Um, ladies first..." Noah smiled while he pulled out his PADD and began to tap and collect the messages he intended to send.

Her dark eyes widening and her whip-like lashes batting, she observed Irynya. Her nictating eyes blinked like the doors on the ship, and then her fleshy lids closed the same. She first one set of fingers and hands- and then toppled the other set upon them. "OK then. Dearie?"

Sparing a quick glance to Noah before she stepped forward, Irynya turned to meet the post woman with a bright smile--the type that Risians were known for. She, too, was a pro. "Picking up for Irynya, Lieutenant, of the USS Sojourner," she said, offering her details and then, providing her thumb to create a biometric record that would act as signature of her pick up.

"Hmm..." the Terellian hummed as her topmost hand left the pile to skim down a console. It was several long seconds before she turned her practiced expression on Irynya again. "Here we go. Three packages and seven subspace messages." She held out another hand for Iry's PADD while the first tapped in a sequence of what Iry had to imagine was authorizations and commands that would bring her packages up from the bowels of wherever they were stored.

"Thank you," the Risian responded, handing the PADD over. "I would also like to send the packet of messages in the outbound box," she said, indicating the spot where the files lived. "No packages to send today."

"Of course sweetie," the Terellian said, unbothered by the addition of a new task even though she hadn't yet inquired about any outbound post. She stared at her console a moment. "Your packages will be here in a moment. If you'd stand here," she indicated the counter to the side of her position, "I'll go ahead and take care of your friend."

Noah's wide smile blossomed and for a moment it almost seemed apologetic? "Balsam, Noah, Ensign... maybe under Cadet. From the Sojourner? Account Apple-Apple-Byway-Pickle-Peekaboo." Noah spoke, and the Terelian began to enter his data in to her terminal. Then her face fell. And her dark eyes and those whip-like lashes fixed on him.

"Pickle Peekaboo?" Irynya mouthed at him when he glanced her way. Her eyes danced with mischief as she watched the exchange.

"Ah ha. You. You have quite a lot of mail, young Human." She raised her chin and shouted, "Bring me the AABPP file! Under Balsam!" Noah blushed.

"Uh oh." He intoned from the corner of a grimace. Noah rocked back on to his heels and folded his hands in front of his lap. A crate came forth, on an anti-grav sled pushed by a Dot with the livery of the Federation Postal Service across it. Using all four of her arms, she lifted it and set it on the counter.

"I need you to sign this attesting that none of this contains contraband, ancient relics or alien antiquities, Mr. Balsam." To which Balsam grimaced again and advanced on the counter. he thumbprinted the PADD she turned toward him and her darkened gaze again brightened. Her nose wrinkled near the intruding spiral of metal that emerged from her nostril. "Thanks sweetie." Noah nodded and blinked, his brain attesting that she was like a mildly terrifying Terelian version of Debbie.

Noah picked up his crate and flipped a switch along its rim. It, in a limited fashion, began to glide along with his efforts. "Ready." Noah said to Irynya.

A moment after Noah's crate's mobility was established a young man bearing a small armload of packages arrived. With a gesture toward Iry the packages were passed across the counter and then the Terellian was on to the next person in line.

There was a shifting of parcels and then, packages appropriately secured in her arms, Irynya fixed a smile along with raised eyebrows on Noah. "Ready."

Noah nodded agreeably while he gave his parcel a guided push and, with a soft warble it began to move under his guided power. "Should we, uh, transport this back to the ship and then get some Lunch?"

"You don't want to open that?" Iry asked, following slightly behind and to the side of Noah's crate. Though she had only glanced she already knew that one of her packages came from Marteli, another from her parents, and the third from Elwe, though she suspected already that it was from her group of friends and not a single sender. "I mean... Not that you have to do that with me there..." she added belatedly reminding herself that Noah had a much higher need for privacy than she did.

'Oh um." Noah's brows flexed. "No I-I definitely do... just.. didn't want to bore you with old pre-First Contact Earth stuff." he grimaced, "Kind of... a... uh... gray area... when she said relics and antiquities. But no one is interested- well some people are. Only some people are interested in this stuff." Noah slowed as they passed a kiosk selling... it looked like drinks. "I'll just grab a quick shake... and we can go open all our stuff?"

The kiosk was clearly alien and one manned by a species that seemed to be a denizen of this side of the wormhole. The script above wasn't in Linguacode either. Though it smelled interesting.

"If it's interesting to you I doubt I'll find it boring," Iry said, stepping up next to him and scanning the kiosk. The wares on offer were brightly colored and smelled fruity to her nose. Perhaps with a whiff of some kind of spice. The menu, though, was as foreign as any language could be. "And we can order food to be brought up too. Not that we shouldn't grab something here, just... there's options."

"Just something quick and we can um, order something at the hotel." Noah said backward. His hypermobile elbows bent as he rested his hands backward on the counter. His eyes narrowed, his lip bitten, he pointed at a list item which he thought meant chocolate? The alien nodded. Noah rattled off his account number for the vendor to charge his credit account from the ship. And he was handed a foam-like tumble with a large straw. "Thanks."

Noah rejoined Irynya with a smile. "Ready." He said as he gave his cart a push. It warbled its whispered hush and hovered with. Noah took a drag on the straw and kind of blinked,. At first it looked unpleasant but then he smacked his lips. "OK, interesting...." He murmured. "Weird..."

Without more than a scan of his face Iry held out her hand, an unspoken request for ta taste of the beverage. "Did you recognize the race of the seller?" She asked, unable to help her curiosity. With a shimmy she shifted her packages to a more comfortable position, keeping pace with Noah and his crate as she did.

"Nope," Noah said with a slight cough, "I just promised myself I'd try one random weird thing this trip and this qualifies." Noah offered it to Irynya. "It's not bad... it's cold... like a slushie. Tastes sort of like..." He blinked with narrowed eyes and sipped it again. He coughed. "Uhh a bit like beef?"

Iry wrinkled her nose at the description, but accepted the cup, popping the straw into her mouth and taking a long sip. It was, indeed, meaty. Something iron-rich in flavor as if someone had spun Timmoz's breakfast bovril into a spun slushy. Her face scrunched as the sensation of cold creaminess battled the savory au jus flavor of meat drippings. Swallowing quickly she handed the cup back over. "Timmoz would love that," she commented with a slight cough and immediate regret that she didn't have an easy way to clear her palate.

"Would he? Oh that stuff he drank in the morning...." Noah said with a point gesture. "I-I didn't make the connection."

"I think it would have to be like garlic... Everybody has some if you're going to kiss. That's ... A strong flavor.," she added. "I always wondered how Nico put up with bovril." It was a wild hare of a thought, one that she spoke less out of necessity and more out of an impulse to share the weird train of thought with Noah.

Noah's nose took its turn to scrunch. "A lot about Timmoz had a strong flavor." he kind of jested which a moment later he seemed to pull back on. "I hope he's OK..." He added with a soft voice. And the pain of that made Noah follow the trail, inevitably, back to Jyl-eel. He felt his insides grow chill and uncomfortable. "Ok that's um... that's done..." Noah said. And with a slight toss, he put it in the nearest rubbish bin.

It was like watching a switch thrown and with the shift from banter to memory, Iry found herself wishing she hadn't brought up Timmoz and Nico. She knew that the feeling, the desire to withhold or edit so that she wouldn't remind Noah of the ones they had lost, was the wrong direction, but she wanted to shield him all the same. To soften and safeguard.

With the hand she had freed to try the beefy drink she snagged Noah's now free hand in her own and squeezed lightly. "Have you had Ram-jari'i before?" She asked lightly, following Noah's lead on subject.

"No," Noah shook his head with a slow blink. "Is it good?" He asked. He didn't know his Risian alcohols. He'd just asked for some advice from the hotel... and maybe a bit of snooping. "I don't actually drink very much. But uh I'll try it for sure. As long as its not like Slug-o-cola." He was trying to rally, trying to flip the switch back. He had to walk around the hole in the path, the reminder, the chilled guts. He did so by reaching over and give Irynya a little sway wby the shoulders. He tried a smile but the tiredness had returned.

"It's delicious," Iry commented. "Something I would normally have to mark a special occasion at home. We drink it in small stemmed glasses. I'll see if I can replicate them for us. It's definitely not like Slug-o-Cola." The Risian met his attempted smile with an encouraging one of her own. She tipped towards him, jostling his arm with her shoulder affectionately. "I do know you don't drink much. You don't have to if you don't want."

He briefly rubbed the outside of her arm as she tilted in to him before Noah let her resume her walk. He had to give his crate another gentle nudge. "Oh. No. I'll try it. I'm sure its better than meat slushie, too."

----

The view upon entering their room was as breathtaking this time as it was the first. Irynya let out a breath and moved deeper into the sitting area, dropping her packages on the table and flopping into a seat. A gumbly gurgling sound emanated from her middle and as quickly as she sat she was back on her feet. "Hungry?" She asked, torn between moving towards the replicator and seeing if they could get something fresh brought to their room.

Noah lied: he had been. But the slushie was not playing well with his mostly Human biochemistry, and the sharp tang of remembrance had taken much of it. "Yeah." Seated with his lanky legs crossed, he rocked buttock to buttock and smiled up at Irynya. "Should we call up the menu?" He blinked. "What goes with your wine?" He asked. "I think, uh, on Earth?" He blinked with a gush, "I mean, on Enceladus too but..." He waved it off, "Um. Cheeses and fruits I think." His nose wrinkled. This was clearly not his area of expertise.

As if Noah had lit a bulb over her head Irynya grinned, and half danced over to a wall console before recalling their Companion. She stopped mid-mincing step and balanced up on her toes. "Companion we would like a cheese and fruit tray. Something that would go well with Ram-jari'i please."

The same disembodied voice that had previously directed them to the elevators seemed to speak from just in front of her. "Please specify any dietary restrictions."

Eyebrows raised in a silent attempt to convey all of her curiosity to Noah, Irynya considered her response. "Please limit to only foods compatible with Human and Risian physiology. Umm... A guide sheet to help identify each item should be included with tasting notes if available?"

"Does user wish a sampler array of different foods that pairs with a Ram'jari'i beverage, with these requirements?" The companion replicator asked. Noah looked on, sitting in his lanky cross-legged style. Normally when he was in a chair, he preferred to sort of squat and lean forward. But that was for thinking. This was for comfort.

"Umm..." Iry hesitated. "If that is the cheese and fruit sort of sampler then yes please. If, umm, there are other foods please keep them to..."she cast about for the right word, "tapas quantities for sharing between two people."

Noah grimaced toothily with a wavered shrug as if to say he was completely out of his depth. He mouthed, "Sorry," knowing full well he was putting the weight of decision on his friend.

With a shrug of resigned uncertainty to Noah she added. "Umm, yeah. Go ahead with that order."

"Acknowledged," the Companion said just as Iry added, "Oh, and two Risian Ram-jari'i stem glasses please."

There was a pregnant pause as if the Companion were waiting for another interruption and then confirmed again in its neutral warm voice.

The spread came not from the wall kiosk, but from the table. It resembled a transporter buffer, with a nuance of sparkle and swirl. The spread... spread... across the coffee table in a series of overly gaudy Ferengi-like golden plates to which Noah sort of frowned at the overt display of wealth. But the unusual glasses that appeared had a certain nuanced charm. They appeared to be glass: but they were a specialized form of singing crystal meant to hum pleasantly at the pressure and temperature of a pour.

Noah picked one up by the stem- it was blue and tulip or iris shaped- Noah didn't know his flowers from his wines. It began a low, soft background hum at the warmth of his fingertips, brief and almost mourning to be filled. "Pretty. These are special for the wine?" He asked.

The grin on Iry's face was irrepressible. She hadn't realized until the glass in Noah's hand had begun to hum that she had only expected a facsimile of the traditional Ram-jari'i glasses and not glasses that actually worked as designed.

"They are," she answered, something weighty that wasn't exactly nostalgia in her tone. With a few steps she rounded the table to the side where Noah sat. "Here," she said, coming up behind him. Leaning in she reaching around him, arm brushing against his as she settled her own fingers over his where they sat on the stem. Her grip was gentle and she carefully adjusted his fingers until the glass rung less with a mournful sound and more with something akin to anticipation, as if the tone was nudging them toward a pour of the glass.

"Are they for... a-a ritual or... a holiday?" Noah asked. He leaned back on a hand, his shoulders rolling to briefly give his skinny chest some definition. "Or do you like your dinnerware to sing to you all the time?"

She'd had to lean a bit forward. His arms were longer than hers, and so her face was just ahead of his own when the sound changed and a triumphant smile bloomed on her features. "There," she said and twisted to look at him, reluctant to move away in case he moved and the glass shifted back to its mournful keen.

Noah's eyebrows popped- first at the glass and then at the face just ahead of his. Noah dropped his eyes with a wide goofy smile. "Well-well okay. It's um..." He looked at the wine bottle and its color in its own crystal container. It was just off any shade of wine that was native to Earth. A touch more... pink? But with the turn of the glass, a refraction might look like peridot? Was that the wine, the crystal glass, or both? Noah guessed the glass but he had no scientific basis.

"Sooo... do you um... what's the word? Do you have to let it breathe or whatever?" Noah's eyes shifted to their temporarily discarded mail.

For a heartbeat longer than necessary Iry let her fingers linger over Noah's and then, slowly, released him and pulled away, coming around the table to the other side to pick up the bottle. "Holidays," she said answering his first question. "Although sometimes we get them out just for the fun of it. Singing dinnerware is always a hit at a party. But they're originally part of The Flowering." The name of the holiday dropped into conversation as if it were a normal thing that Noah might know about. "We often have Ram-jari'i at Joinings and Separations as well."

"Ah I see." Noah smiled in to a cheek. "You all have about as many rituals as the Vulcans, I think."

With a practiced motion she removed the bottle's stopper. "Keep your hands on the stem," she instructed and then reached across him to pour the wine into the glass. As she did she traced the fill line along the outside of the tulip-shaped cup, making the glass's hum change as she went. The note of anticipation remained, but with the pour and Iry's touch additional tones joined it creating a chord that shifted from anticipation to something akin to appreciation and then to the tonal version of what sounded like contentment.

Noah did as he was instructed, his fingers stayed on the stem of the crystal. Its "voice" began to change. It went from a soft almost keening to something more lyrical and humming. It seemed... happy?

With a careful draw of her finger across the exterior of the glass Iry removed her hand leaving behind the note created by Noah's hold and the lower tone that she had built to. Her expression was, ever so slightly, apologetic when she lifted her gaze back to Noah's face. "Sorry... I might be showing off a bit..." she confessed and settled back into her seat to pour her own glass. "So... what, exactly, do you think is in that crate of yours?"

Noah gushed. "I-I was starting to wonder. But it's-it's good." His neck twisted. "Oh uh. I'm hoping a letter from my parents. And maybe some of my Academy friends by now. But a lot of it's from the Pre-Threes." he waved a hand. "Things from before First Contact and stuff. Gadgets and... probably mostly media." Noah looked back at his crate again. "In the Pre-Threes, I do a lot of media restoration. I've written some algorithms... um.. back at Academy... to try and fix degradation and such." He shrugged. "Music and... media..."

"That's where Phaser Beak came from... right?" she asked, trying to remember the origin details she'd managed to pull from him and Sheldon in the aftermath of Subrek. "Or something like that?"

"The idea for it yeah." Noah nodded. His mouth twisted, sad briefly that Phaser Beak had had to give its existence to save everyone. It was done in too soon. And that... ogre lady... in Security didn't seem keen to let them build again. He shifted that back. "Um. How about you?"

Iry glanced at her own packages. They were smaller than Noah's crate and if she was honest she wasn't entirely sure what to expect. It was too early for her birthday, though it wouldn't be unlike her parents to have sent something ahead knowing it was uncertain when she would receive the package. And she'd glimpsed Marteli's name on the smaller package. The third was the easiest to guess. "Umm... I think the long one is probably the liquor in a Risian Sunrise..." she said a bit sheepishly. "I mentioned to Marteli in a letter just before we came across to Pathfinder that it was going to be hard to find. If I were to place a bet I'd say the group of them decided to rectify that. I think I have a couple messages from them too. You're welcome to listen if you're curious. They're... an experience... even across subspace."

"Ah um. If you're sure they're not too private..."

For the briefest of moment the Risian's brow creased. "They're probably not," she admitted though her mind traced back to the last message she'd received in which her entire group of friends had commented freely on her brief romantic relationship with Kennedy Ryan Walsh. There had been a few pointed remarks and hints that she was still trying to process through as well. "Really it's just that I'd love them to meet you someday. It feels... weird... to have close friends that have never met. I know it's pretty normal, but still..." She shrugged as if there wasn't really anything else to say on the topic and then shifted her grasp on the stem of her glass, changing the tone ever so slightly.

With a nod toward the glass in Noah's hand she raised her own and brought it to her lips. The wine was familiar, heavy on her tongue and sweet. The closest comparison she had heard given to a human wine was port, but the sweetness was tempered somewhat, lighter, and the bite of alcohol was almost absent despite what she knew to be a fairly high alcohol content. As she sipped the tone of her glass shifted ever so slightly and she grinned at it and then at Noah. "What do you think?"

Noah hadn't tried it. He eyed the array of strange cheeses and cheese-like delicacies... and what seemed to be more recognizably fruits and fried things. He decided to just follow her lead. He sipped it. "Um. It's nice. It's more citrusy than I think most Human alcohols are..."

Nodding, Iry reached for a cheese, popping a small bite into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "That makes sense, I think. I feel like we have a lot of fruits that humans would classify as citrus on Risa." The savory umami of the cheese was a notable contrast to the sweet notes of the Ram-jari'i and when she sipped again her eyebrows rose. "Try that one," she said pointing to the type she'd just had. "Umm... mind if I open mine?" she asked, reaching for the long parcel she'd indicated was likely alcohol. "And I can pop into my bedroom if you want privacy looking at your crate."

"Oh um, no go ahead." Noah was chewing on something akin to a dried apricot but its flavor was lighter and more... pruny. He went for the cheese Irynya had suggested. "This looks like maybe... it's also Risian?" Noah picked up the cheese and gave it a sniff. It had a clean scent, maybe a touch of umami to his untrained nose. He bit it and it was strange and he wasn't sure what to make of it. "That's really um... crisp. Crunchy almost."

Iry chuckled, watching him chew with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "It is Risian," she confirmed, "but from a different part of the planet than where I grew up. I haven't had it often. I like the contrast it offers, though." She sipped her drink again, and snagged one of the fruits Noah had been holding before pulling her tiny pile of parcels over. She nibbled the fruit, appreciating the tart for a moment before setting the remainder of the fruit at the edge of one of the gaudy Ferengi dishes.

As she had suspected the long package was a carefully wrapped glass bottle. The liquid inside was clear and a label in Risian script flowed down the side ending in a bundle of brightly colored flowers. "Oh, this is the good stuff," she said, inspecting the bottle a moment before offering it to Noah to look at. "I'll have to make us Risian Sunrises sometime."

Noah, halfway toward chewing cheese, nodded. He wondered why so many groups named drinks after sunrises and sunsets. Pretty colors was probably why.

She set the box on the floor and pulled the flatter of the two remaining boxes to her, unsealing it and shifting the lid aside. Inside was a familiar set of small canisters--one of oil and two of paint--each barely larger than a 3 cm by 3 cm cube. On top lay a slip of paper and a note scrawled in her mother's handwriting. "Just in case," she read, tilting the note so that Noah could see. Her mother's name and a small symbol were inscribed at the bottom. "Mom is always worrying I'll run out of paints out here," she explained when she slid the box across the table. "I've tried explaining that I can replicate what I need, but she insists it's not the same as what I can get at home."

"Do you uh ever paint anything for her? She might like that..." Noah asked.

Iry chuckled and then pointed to her forehead. "Ja'risia paints," she clarified. "I'm pretty sure any hopes of being a talented painter were dashed in graded school. Though, you're probably right, my mom would love it even if it looked like something a 5 year old created."

A shadow crossed her features for just the slightest of moments as the sights and sounds of Risa flooded her memory. She knew exactly which shop these had been purchased from. It was the same one that she had gone to with her mother once she'd had her own ja'risia ceremony. These didn't feel like just extra paints. They felt like a bit of home. "She's probably right too. About the replicator," she added belatedly before resuming her nibbled fruit and taking another larger bite.

"Well..." Noah twisted his mouth. "Replicators just replicate something from one source, one pattern with one analysis of its molecular composition. It makes it the exact same over and over. Unless you modify it... or,. uh, give it a new pattern, it's always the exact same." He blinked and looked on at Irynya having her moment, "There's no impurities or... local isotopes or... you know... added touches."

It was such a normal Noah thing to say and, despite her sudden homesick nostalgia, his explanation pulled her back to the moment. She shook her head and slid out of her chair, once again coming around behind him, but this time wrapping her arms around him in a sort of a hug. "Thank you," she said, and then before he could ask for what, she added, "just for being you."

Noah smiled with a slight sway as if pleased by that.

Sliding back into her chair Iry reached for her glass, grasping it at the base and then sliding her fingers up it to the bottom of the glass's bell creating something like a rushed scale as she did. It was in no way particularly musical, but it made her grin broadly before taking another sip from the glass. The last box opened easily enough, but revealed, within it, another box. This one was made of paper, or... she looked more closely and grinned... pressed flowers. The scent of the box was lightly floral with a hint of the citrus that Noah had noticed in the Ram-jari'i.

Carefully she lifted it out of its shipping box and set it on the table in front of her. A bit of twine held the top on and tucked under the twine was another hand-written note, this time in Marteli's handwriting.

With a quick tug at the twine she freed the note, unfolded it, and read it silently. It was only a matter of moments, but her eyes widened as she read and her lips pulled wide in an excited smile as she set the note aside and lifted the lid of the box.

Gently she removed its contents, laying each on the table in front of her. A small pouch in a warm orange color sat next to a vial of sand. Beside the vial came a small clear envelope filled with dried orange flowers, some intact and others just the petals. A smaller clear envelope held a slip of something that glinted golden in the light. Last was a slip of the same pressed petal paper the box was made of and a small writing implement no more than a few inches in length.

"Pretty." Noah remarked at the color of the flowers even as he leaned over and pulled his own crate toward him. He pulled something out if the box that looked to be quite the opposite of Irynya's delicate and lovely offerings from Marteli. He has pulled out a plastic box with a badly degraded insert of some kind. He opened it, with a silvery disc of some kind anchored inside. His brows rose at the name and the degraded picture on the cover. "Is that from Marteli?" He asked.

Iry's eyebrows popped slightly, pleasantly surprised by Noah's guess. "It is," she said. "It's the materials for a Ketha Eliorai." She paused considering how much her friend might actually want to know about it. "The Ketha Eliora is a Risian tradition specifically for travelers who will be absent during The Flowering celebrations. I make one for every celebration I miss, but I haven't always had the materials from home like this."

She picked up Marteli's note and offered it to Noah in case he was curious about what she'd sent. "What," she asked, clearly curious as she held out the small paper, "is that?" She tilted her head toward the plastic box with the silver disc.

"Old Earth media storage from, um, before we had quantum entangled storage and retrieval systems. And-and before we stored media in central locations. Data was burned or scratched in to a medium like this. And pur-purchased." He offered an exchange: the strange container that had a very old smell- and her flowered loveliness. In exchange Noah took the paper.

The disk caught the light and refracted it in beams across its surface like a prism. The disk had a cover in black, like space, with beams of light. Five figures seemed to take a central role. Three were large: a balding man with a scruffy appearance; a beautiful woman with vibrantly orange hair; a sinister looking man with a flop of black hair. Below were two smaller- an old bearded man, and another man that seemed to have a tube of hair growing from his forehead.

Iry gingerly took the disk from Noah, curious about the images inscribed on it. She couldn't see all of them, but the orange haired woman was wearing something that looked like rubber straps over a fitted white top. And there was something odd about the man with the shock of black hair--half of his head was unnatural. She couldn't tell if that was because of the age of the item in her hands or if it was deliberate. "I like her outfit," Iry commented, finding her eyes drawn back to the orange-haired woman. "It's... unique, but also maybe a bit playful?" She studied it more closely and then offered the disk back to Noah. "Could I watch with you? When you're done working with it I mean?"

"Do you think?" Noah bent and twisted, and peered over Irynya's shoulder at the image. "We could replicate something like it if you want to try it on."

"Oh, maybe..." Iry agreed. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing the whole outfit before we do. I mean... I got lucky when I got assigned Luke Skywalker. You were ..." She twisted a bit so she could see him. The bridge of her nose crinkled along with the corners of her eyes as she met his. "... a beautiful metal-clad princess," she finished with a chuckle. "So is this one your friends found... or...."

Noah took the disc as she gave it back. "I've been waiting for this one for awhile. I saw it once in a Pre-Three screening when I was a sophomore. But it was badly degraded. It was on an even older medium called cassette. I'm going to try and re-render it into watchable media, and then convert it to a Holo-program." He agreed with a nod that Irynya could try it when he was done. "It'll take awhile but-but sure. As long as you don't mind Shelly probably being there too."

"I mean. I assume Shelly has first dibs. Maybe you should be asking him if he minds? I can always watch it later if you two want the first watch." She could imagine that the two of them were either utterly silent during a first watch or a steady stream of commentary. Besides she knew how much the two of them enjoyed old media lile this. "What else have you got in there?"

Noah twisted his mouth into an offset pucker again. "Y-yeah I will, sorry, I didn't mean to imply I wouldn't." He slipped the disc back into its bluish-tinted clamshell case and then placed it back in to his crate. "Oh um." Noah rose to a kneel and stooped over his crate with his back to Irynya. "A new model I wanted to put together... some more of these... Blue Rays... a letter from my Mom... a letter from my Dad. Package from Mom... from Bajor." He turned that one over with the reflective sticker of the Bajor Assembly on it. "How about you?"

She held up her PADD giving her wrist a brief twist that made the light gleam off of the device's surface. "Just messages," she said and then, thinking about his earlier point about privacy she added, "But those can wait." In truth she was extremely curious about the messages that had been downloaded. She'd resisted the urge to see who they were all from although she had some fairly confident guesses. "Or we can split up if you want to listen now with out humming glassware and an audience?"

Iry gave him an almost apologetic self-deprecating sort of shrug. "Any ideas what's in the package?" She couldn't help her curiosity. While she knew some of Noah's family history, she felt like his parents still existed in her head as outlines of people. Despite her desire to give him whatever space he may want to take, she was still painfully curious.

"Knowing my Mom?" Noah blinked and looked at Irynya at the same time. His hands stilled on the package. "It's either hasperat brine from her new husband... he's a Ranjen and makes the brine in his monastery. Or the blue Jumja gum to make real Hot Jala." Noah's brow perked, "Hot Jala's one of the only drinks I like from Bajor." His nose wrinkled. "Have you ever had hasperat?"

Iry shook her head, taking another sip of the Ram-jari'i as she did. A pleasant diffuse warmth had settled at the back of her throat and in her belly warning her that despite the easy drinking of the liqueur-like wine the alcohol content was high. "That's..." she tried to recall what she knew about hasperat, "It's usually served as a sort of sandwich, right? Or..." she frowned, "Is it what's inside of the sandwich?" She considered a moment. "I can't say I've had Hot Jala either. For as close as Risa is to Bajor it's not a culture I've had a lot of contact with."

"Its that blue drink I had a few days ago. Kind of thick? Frothy? In the martini glass... for some reason." His mouth widened at a return to the puzzlement of that. "Hasperat's kind of like saying..." His brows flexed. "Hot... or... pickled." He snapped his fingers and pointed, "Or mirepoix. I-I think its usually in a souffle. Or in a casserole. But you can make it in a few ways. It's more like... a defining ingredient than the dish itself."

She nodded, adding, "That makes sense." A thought seemed to cross her features and she peered at the various dishes on the table. They'd barely put a dent in them and there were still a number of things to try. "I rather like pickled things," she commented as an aside. "I'm surprised there aren't any amongst this spread. Aren't pickles typical of... you know... meat and cheese boards?"

"Oh uh." Noah's eyes widened at that reality- and the clear lack thereof. "That's..." He jerked back with a scowl, "Weird. That there aren't any. Should w- oh wait a minute." Noah's eyes narrowed. "W-wait is it the Ferengi or the Hupyrians that don't like pickled smells because its smells reminds them of death?" He tilted his head. "I could... swear their vacuum-desiccating process had a strong smell? Until it aired out?"

"Maybe," Iry nodded, conscious that she wasn't the least bit sure. "I mean, we could always try to replicate some and see if the replicator lets us?" Her eyes fell again on the spread before them, considering how much they still had. "Or we could test that theory another time." She shrugged and grinned before reaching for a plate.

Snagging a spherical fried... something... she popped it into her mouth, chewing carefully. The burst of warm salty cheese flavor made her smile and she nodded to the plate. "Fried cheese," she said through around her mouthful. Her eyes drifted down to her glass then, now half empty, and with an almost lazy swipe she ran her finger along the top of the rim causing the glass to emit a sweet high note that lingered only as long as her fingers touched the rim. Her expression was thoughtful, though, and with a curious tilt to her head she looked back to Noah and the box he had received. "Did you get a chance to visit her? Before you were assigned to the Sojourner I mean?"

"No." Noah shook his head. "Which was sad. I meant to. Antares Fleet Yards is not that far from Bajor. But I couldn't get away." He shrugged. "The Sojourner was... a mess. And crazy shorthanded, um, so they sort of drafted me." He smiled and shook his head. "I even had tickets to the Peldor Joi Gratitude Festival."

"I'm sorry," she said. "About not getting to see your mom particularly, but about the festival too. I have heard of that one and it's always sounded so lovely. Were you going to take a friend or go on your own?" She wondered about Elizabeth who, by her estimation, wasn't entirely unlike Marteli though perhaps less physically intimate. In the back of her head, though, another question pressed for attention. Her outbound mail had been full of updates, but only one--a short letter drafted to Marteli--spoke of their last encounter with the Maje. This last mission had felt too heavy to burden her parents with.

"Oh um. Life of an Ensign I guess. Bottom rung..." He smiled wryly. "Or well, cadet I guess. If you think about it, I have to call most of my friends 'Sir' on duty. You... Shelly... Tamblem. Debbie... she outranks me and she's a civilian." He chuckled. "Anyway um... sorry... no just going alone. Or with my Mom. And her... you know... partner. I don't know anyone on Bajor."

Iry nodded, chuckling herself at Noah's point about calling all of his friends sir. But the earlier question lingered and after a moment she gave in to it. "Do you tell your parents... or... you know... your friends... about the stuff we've encountered out here? I mean... like... you know... Subrek and stuff," The question was blurted hurriedly as if she wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask, or perhaps as if she needed to get it out quickly before she changed her mind.

Noah nodded with his bottom lip out, "Oh uh, most of it. Some." He winced an eye. "More my Mom than my Dad or my brother. But I tell them a lot." As he admitted that, again he drew in. His last letter to his mother had been about Tor's death and again he felt the pang. Again Noah had to circumvent the gaping hole in the envisioned hole in his life-road. He rose up to his knees. "Ugh, be right back. I gotta pee so bad." He grimaced.

"Oh, yeah, of course." Iry's eyes tracked to the bathroom as he stood, but then quickly back to Noah unable to help the feeling that she shouldn't have asked the question.

"Be right back," Noah said with a hush, a quick smile. A smile to hide the pain.

A Post By:

Lieutenant Irynya
Flight Controller

&

Ensign Noah Balsam
System Specialist