Fire-side Tales

Posted on 12 Jan 2024 @ 3:58pm by Captain Easton Lawe & Crewman Apprentice Unknown 'Weirdo'

2,362 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Miranda

Evening had come for their first night on the planet. They had managed to get just-enough assembled for everyone to have shelter for the night and manage for their short time down here. A couple enterprising souls had set up firepits and even gotten fires started, drawing in a crowd who was interested in the warmth, the comfort, or the novelty. Or all three. Easton was more the first two than anything else, but he was also just there to spend time among his crew. Most of them were doing considerably better, though a hospital shelter still had more than a handful of serious cases.

He hated his ship being up there in orbit with no one on it...but there was nothing for it. So, he took a seat on an empty crate around the fire as people talked, ate, and generally just tried to relax after their very trying week. He noted a few folks and gave them friendly nods, including their most-recent addition of the fella-without-an-actual-name.

The latter had shed his uniform now that he was off-duty, in favour of something which was 'more suitable' for the outdoors. Which, with his typical flair for strange outfits, came down to garments which appeared to be a blend of an Indiana Jones-outfit and those that could have been worn by the explorers of the Wild West and jungles in the past. A hat failed to tame his curls, a leather coat over a buttoned shirt, half-high boots. A whip on his belt should've looked ridiculous on him but somehow didn't. The fact that as a security officer (though the word 'officer' was seriously towing the line of technicalities in his case) he needed to wear a phaser even when he was off-duty – regulations demanded it – should have made the combination even more ridiculous. But here, too, the anachronism seemed to be oddly fitting, summarising the strange man who wore them.

He smiled back at the captain as he sat down and stuck the stick he had been holding out towards the fire into his direction. "Good evening, captain. Would you care for a marshmallow?"

"We have marshmallows?" Easton asked, chuckling as he looked the other man up and down. The outfit didn't even really surprise him at this point, given how strange everything had been lately. "I haven't had one of those since I was a kid back on Earth." Which, really, seemed like a lifetime and a half ago tonight.

"Your yeoman brought them." He nodded at Aliza, who had just gotten up to bring some more wood for the fire from the pile. "I've never had one at all, at least that I know of. They're quite good," he added, licking his fingers. "Bit sticky though."

Easton chuckled. "They are that," he agreed. "Once upon a time, they were basically pure sugar. It's not synthesized to avoid being so unhealthy, but they tried to keep the experience just the same. Hence it's still sticky and if you're not careful, you'll end up with more on your hands than in your mouth once the melting begins."

The man grinned. "I had noticed." Though whether he had done so for himself or by observing others was unclear. He certainly seemed clean enough. "So, do you know any good campfire tales? I've been reading up on campfire traditions," he added. He always seemed to be 'reading up' on something, or maybe two or three somethings at once, or doing other things if he wasn't reading or busy with something else - he appeared to be chronically incapable of sitting still.

The captain's dark brows rose slightly with amusement. "It's been a long time since I had a chance to sit around a fire," he commented. "What other traditions have you read about? So far, I know you know about the marshmallows and storytelling."

"Singing," the man replied promptly. "That's not uniquely human, many cultures have traditions of storytelling and singing at campfires at night. Dancing, too. For instance, flamenco and fado from your culture. A certain branch of Klingon culture regaled hunting stories and enacted them around campfires at night. And of course there are campfire songs in many traditions."

"A part of me would be a little scared to attend a campfire evening when Klingons are reenacting a hunting story," Easton said thoughtfully, a slight knit to his brows. "One would be concerned just how far they would take the reenactment... Your research didn't say they actually hunted anyone, I hope?" At this, he chuckled a little, though, since he didn't really think they would. Pretty sure.

"I believe they originally did them to celebrate a successful hunt, so more a retelling of how the hunt went. These days it seems more like a traditional pastime, much like we're doing now. A kind of vacation." He speared another marshmallow on the stick and held it out towards the fire, turning it gently.

Easton turned to look back at the fire with a rueful smile. "If only this were actually a vacation," he commented. He let the conversation lull for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, but then he continued. "I've heard that you've been drafted a little more actively into helping security recently. How's that been going for you?"

"Mixed feelings," came the prompt reply. "It is certainly an interesting experience to actually be an active member of the security department before even completing my exams, though from what I've read there certainly is precedent for that. However, I regret the necessity because it means that so many members of the department themselves became ill." He pulled the marshmellow back and studied it, then held it out again. "And though I wish everyone a speedy recovery so that they can get back to their normal duties again, it certainly feels good to be an actual member of the crew, with actual duties, instead of a guest who helps out with odd jobs here and there." He shrugged and smiled again. "So in my case it's a kind of reverse vacation, one might say."

"Seems like the best way to look at it, all being equal," the captain replied thoughtfully. "Though it sounds like even before the security rounds, you'd made yourself pretty indispensable helping medical and sickbay out."

"Ah, well, that was just… people were sick and I wasn't, so of course I helped. Least I could do. I did the simple jobs so the medical staff could do the hard things without having to worry about the rest. Or at least, not worry so much." He withdrew the marhsmellow again. "Would you like another one? There's plenty."

"No, thank you. I'm good," Easton chuckled, looking at the marshmallow he had taken at least one bite from. "I've remembered that I don't really like them."

"No worries." The man stuck the stick out to his right, and some other crewmember took it. He speared a next marshmellow to the stick and stuck it out again. The sea-coloured eyes regarded the captain next, with their usual intensity. "So how have you been holding up? It must be hard, everything that is going on. Mystery illness, seeing your crew go down, then having to leave the ship itself… It's a lot."

The captain almost cracked a small joke about if the strange fellow beside him was planning to enter counseling next, but he didn't. He could tell it was well-meant. "It is a lot," he agreed. "The worst part, honestly, is knowing that this was some sort of weapon yet we don't even know if it was meant as a weapon against us specifically or just some sort of random act. Hurting whoever this person could."

The man nodded. "The problem with bio-engineered weapons is that they're often a double-edged sword. As likely to hurt the ones who create it as everyone else, especially with rapid mutations as a factor. Unless there's a built-in backdoor, some kind of kill switch…" His smile had faded as he went through the possibilities and was replaced by a pensive look. "Problem with finding such a backdoor is unless you know exactly where it is, it could be too late by the time you find it. Providing there's one at all."

"Indeed," Easton agreed somberly. "However, I am at least grateful for the skill, training, and dedication of the good doctors to find something to treat this with before it got even worse."

He nodded. "Yes. Without them we would've been far worse off, in many respects." He looked around, then up at the expanse of stars which was spread out above them. "And fortunate that we found this world where we can camp for a few days. The change of pace alone will be refreshing for a lot of people."

The captain could only agree. "The planet isn't quite as nice as M-class worlds, but it's good enough for us and the fresh air seems to be bolstering people's spirits." He gestured at the crowd that had grown quite a bit around the bonfire just in the time that the odd crewman and captain had been speaking.

He leaned forward and folded one hand under his chin, still gently twirling the marshmallow he was holding out with his other hand. "Do you have a favourite world, captain?" he asked, looking at him. "One which stands out to you above all others?"

"Interesting question," Easton said with a chuckle, turning his dark eyes to look into the flames. "It's hard to not be terribly simple and just say Earth, since I was born there, but that does put it pretty high on the list. I had a good childhood. I met my wife there. Even though she and I are not married any longer, she gave me my daughters, and I'm grateful for that every day." He almost asked the same of the other man, but then he remembered that the other didn't remember such things. "How're you finding this world?" he asked instead, knowing that his biology wasn't really human and maybe he had different interpretations of it.

"Very nice!" the man said with his wide grin. "Maybe because walking around on a world is such a novel experience. I've been in holodecks, of course, and the simulated environment is quite realistic. But you're always aware that it is recreated, for all that. You still feel you're on a ship. Here, there is nothing like that. No sound of engines in the background, no recycled air… It is absolutely fantastic!"

It was difficult to not appreciate the man's enthusiasm, Easton thought as he smiled in response. "That's true," he said. "You can put a lot of it out of your conscious mind, but it's impossible to not still know that you're on a ship moving through space rather than on actual ground. The air is a little thin for humans, I think. Are you noticing that or does your biology not feel it the same way?" The captain was curious and didn't think that too invasive a question, hopefully.

He didn't seem bothered by it at all. "I can feel that the air here is thinner than is standard on the ship, but it's not hindering me in any way. Maybe I'd be more bothered by it if I was doing something strenuous, combat training or a fast run. I might have to try that out tomorrow…"

"Doesn't seem like you let much grass grow on you," Easton commented, but with amusement.

The man grinned back. "Of course not! There's a whole world out here to explore, one which no-one from Starfleet has ever seen before, and we only get to spend a few days here! I'm sure it's nothing compared to a lot of worlds you have visited, but for me this is something completely new, and I plan to spend as much time as possible enjoying as many aspects of this as I can."

Easton chuckled, feeling almost like he was talking to one of his daughters. The enthusiasm of youth, and they really had no idea how old this fella was... "As well you should, then," he said. "Folks will be allowed to do some reasonable exploration. No inhabitants and not even much flora or fauna to worry about."

"In other words, not many things which could break when some blundering wannabe's like me wander around the place?" the whip-carrying man said with a wide grin, tilting his hat back. "Fair assessment."

"Well, it's part of my duty to make sure every member of my crew and person on my ship remains as safe as possible," the captain began with a smile, though it faded after a moment. "Of which, I didn't do so well recently." He reflected on Aliza's report, which had born useful information but only so much he could do with it. He hoped Walker returned soon and could continue to shed light on things. "Hopefully, everyone will be able to relax and rest a little while we're down here."

"That would be good, yes. And much needed. But, captain…" the man pulled the stick with the by now quite crisp marshmallow back and turned to him, giving him once again his full attention. "Don't forget to take some rest yourself."

Easton smiled and nodded. "You as well," Easton said, doing as most captains did and skirting the general issue of command-level self-care. "Although I suspect you run a little higher octane than most of us do."

It took him a few moments to process that. Octane-based fuels were rare these days, but he had taken a chemistry course as part of the whole Starfleet Academy package, so after some time he nodded. "It would seem that way," he said as he popped the crispy marshmallow from the stick and into his mouth. He leaned back with a satisfied sigh and looked up at the stars. "I find this quite restful already."

The captain nodded again, observing the strange man for a few moments before he turned his attention to look at the rest of the crew amid their evening activities. "May we all find it such."

 

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