Touching Base

Posted on Sat Aug 29th, 2020 @ 7:37am by Lieutenant Orin Sempton & Lieutenant Commander T'Par

Mission: End of Line
Location: Science Department
Timeline: MD 7
1497 words - 3 OF Standard Post Measure

Lieutenant T'Par had her hands clasped lightly behind her back as she approached the anthropologists workspace. She had not had a chance to personally meet everyone in the department since her transfer from security. "Good afternoon, Ensign," she said politely.

Orin's head snapped up in surprise, right into the top of the transparent aluminum block shelf he was installing. One hand instinctively grabbed his glasses as they fell from his face, the other clamped onto the back of his skull. "ghay'cha', that's gonna leave a mark..." One eye squinted at his visitor, and though extremely blurry, he was able to see the pips, and his body immediately straightened up. "Ma'am, I apologize for my language!"

"It's quite all right, Ensign," T'Par responded. "I did not mean to startle you." She glanced to the block shelf and then back to him. "Do you require assistance?"

"It's my fault ma'am, I should have heard the doors open." He slowly replaced the glasses after a cursory inspection of them. "I would not mind the help, but I do not wish to take you from other duties." He glanced back at the two chests sitting nearby. "I seem to have acquired more items than I remember."

"As a new Assistant Chief, my most immediate duty is to familiarize myself with the department's personnel," she told him. "I am T'Par."

"It is nice to meet you ma'am." Hefting another section of plate, Orin gave the traditional Vulcan salute with the other. "Sarlah etek dvin-tor."

"Vu dvin dor etwel," she answered him as she returned the salute. Then, after waiting another moment for him to finish with the section of plate, she did something she very rarely did and offered her hand.

His eyes flicked down to the hand, eyes widening a bit before he was able to regain control. Taking the proffered hand, Orin remembered something said to him by one of his father's workers back on Earth, part of a more formal greeting. "Well met." He held for what seemed an appropriate amount of time, before releasing her hand.

"Well met," she agreed, withdrawing her hand after a brief shake. "How do you find Majestic so far?"

"It's a fine ship, for as much as I've explored her. A little different than what I'm used to. I'm going to need to sit down with a deck listing so I can memorize it to keep from getting lost..." he paused to sigh, "Again." He turned to inspect the shelves so far, making sure they were properly balanced and level before turning back to the large black chests. "I've unfortunately been able to explore much though, with meetings and setting up new spaces and bunks. I'll definitely need to find the holodeck so I can get some exercise in. It's been a while since I've worn my armor." He looked back at the Lieutenant as he picked up an armillary sphere to place in the cubes. "Sorry ma'am, I'm rambling."

"It's quite all right," she reassured him, though her tone, of course, barely changed. "Your own armor? Not generated by the Holodeck?" One eybrow raised every so slightly. That was interesting.

"Yes, Ma'am. Fitted and tailored." He pointed to another of the crates in the corner. "It should be in that one. Most historic armor was not one size fits all, but was crafted or modified to the person wearing it. It had to be, as ill-fitting armor would bind, drag or otherwise catch in a way that would limit mobility and cause death during battle. While the holodeck provides a rather fair approximation as to armor sizes and types, it never truly gets it proper. Much like a saddle, it's a personal item that needs to be broken in to your own body."

"I have noticed Humans often perceive imperfections in items they know to be generated by a Holodeck or replicator regardless of the exactness of the process," she noted as she stepped towards the box. "Many Human cultures attach value to authenticity, even when it leads to small imperfections." She squatted by the box. "May I?"

"Please do." He waved. "Be wary of the sword and dagger though. While the edges are blunted, the points are not."

She opened the box and examined the weaponry and armor. She lifted her brow as she brought the dagger up for inspection. "A far more efficient weapon than a mek'leth or an ahn-woon. There is a certain directness to the design."

Orin finished placing the stops around the sphere to hold it in place and turned toward her. "We humans have a wide variety of weapons based on land form, culture or even tribal relation. And while yes, there outwardly appears to be a directness, the truth of it goes much deeper. While not as strong as Klingons, as wise as Vulcans or as cunning as Romulans, we had to use versatility. We fought with sticks and rocks, yet obsidian was a stone used in surgeries due to its ability to cut between cells, while steel ripped them apart. Flint, another rock could be used to make weapons or sparks to start fires when struck against metal. Axes and knives could be used to cut people or be used as an everyday tool. Without versatility, our ability to improvise, adapt and overcome, we would never have made it out of our caves, let alone fly through the stars."

T'Par listened attentively to what he said. An eyebrow lifted once or twice but, when he finished, she asked a simple question. "What appeals to you about this blade in particular?"

"Both of them are based on on finds made back in the mid to late 20th century. While a tool of war by Roman standards, blades like those were considered status symbols, though what appeals to me the most is the fine detail work of the scabbards. The delicate scrollwork, the brass, copper and silver inlays." He reached into the container and pulled out the next object, an astrolabe, and made his way over to the shelves. "A lot of what we make these days is via matter replicators, assembled as we need it to be through a pattern or description. When you look at the detail in the scabbard, or even the blade, you can see the workmanship that went into it. Everything nearly symmetrical, and all carved out, beaten and toiled on by hand and eye. Even the blade itself has a bit of fine detail silver in it. It's a reminder that while we may have moved forward technologically, we lost a part of ourselves in the exchange."

"That is a very interesting perspective," T'Par noted, looking at the blade once more before rising fully and handing it off to him, pommel first. "And yet it is on a holodeck that you most use it?"

Orin took the proffered blade, spinning it with a flourish learned from long practice, before sitting it on the desk near him. "Not much reason to carry it around. Everything we have is proportioned to our wants or needs, be it food, textiles or other items. But." He reached around to the back of his labcoat and slipped his hand into a small pocket, bringing out a small 6 inch long round dowel with designs burned into the length of the wood. He handed the length to her. "Pull this apart, but be cautious."

She took the item gently. A brow lifted curiously as she slowly pulled it apart. A short, narrow blade caught glinted off the lights as she turned it in her hand.

"This is called a puukko. A small work knife that's used for everyday life; from needing to open something, cut your food, garden or whittle. It was given to my father when he was on a dig in the Scandinavian regions of Earth. When he gave it to me a few years ago, he told that by tradition, it's believed that the person giving you this knife thought about your well-being, by giving you a tool you may need in life."

"That is logical," she agreed. "Do you find much use for it? It seems an item meant to be used."

"It is." He agreed. "But on ships like this, I don't use it much. I always keep it on me though, because you never know when you'll need it."

"I suppose you don't," she agreed, handing it back to him. "Thank you, Ensign Sempton. It's been an interesting conversation."

Orin slipped the tool back into the rear pocket. "Thank you, Ma'am. I apologize for rambling on, it's been a while since I've interacted with people."

"Oh, not at all. I've learned a great deal about you," she replied. "I hope I haven't kept you too much from your work."

"Not at all. There wasn't much to do currently, which is why I decided to set these up. Next up is memorizing the ship's deck plans."

"I'll leave you to it, ensign."