Homework

Posted on Sat Oct 19th, 2024 @ 4:14pm by Lieutenant Commander Caradan Eunidas
Edited on on Tue Oct 22nd, 2024 @ 2:00pm

Mission: The Only Thing Left Was Hope
Location: Kip's Sports Bar
Timeline: After Returning to Earth

Homework.

Caradan's homework was to socialize. Sure she needed to get to know the crew, but she also needed to be around people in general. It was no trouble at all for her when she was in work mode and duty called, but, during down time, when she could just be herself, the very idea of socializing made her want to melt away.

Caradan was approaching Kip's Sports Bar. It was behind Kip's Diner and bore the name of Kip eventhough it was a separate establishment. Before actually entering the place, Caradan could already tell the place was booming with business. Music played, billiards balls broke, drink flowed, smoke wafted, people howled and laughed, games were played. The whole place was breathing. She placed one foot ahead of the other and slowly carried herself closer to the entrance. There was no one inside that she knew, or she did not know if anyone she knew was in there.

Caradan wore her neutral colors, her black boots, white silk gloves and even her white al-amira head covering. She balled her hands into fists and continued forcibly willing herself to make an entrance. She blinked away any thoughts, demanded her anxiety to stay away and fought against her resume of phobias fighting back and trying to forbid her further encroaching upon uncomfortable territory.

Finally getting herself through the door, Kip's bar was as hopping as she had imagined. The varied video monitors displayed about as many various sports games. People hollered at the monitors, gave exclaimed praise, cursed, even threw things. Another explosion of a billiards caused Caradan to jerk her head in the direction. She saw two people circling a table and preparing to continue their game.

From the bar an obvious goal was scored as a group howled into the air. Caradan was slowly continuing to carry herself further inside as she witnessed several of that group bumping their chests together and gulping back pints of beverage.

A boxing match was also being displayed. The headline was "Bruising in the Briar Patch" and the opponents facing each other was a Klingon and a Cardassian. Fans at the bar jabbed in the air while providing their own commentation, cheered when their favorite threw a punch, jeered when he received one.

A pair of growls caught Caradan's attention and the looked, leaned this way and that and found a pair of Klingons insulting and punching each other and then gulping down blood wine. A slam later and she turned her attention back to the bar as the tender slammed down a plate of a Klingon delicacy. The boxing fans as the bar called out as the rounded ended; the Klingon boxer went to his corner, walking straight toward the recording sensor, eyeing it, almost staring back at Caradan herself.

She wanted to leave but forced herself to stay; reminded herself this was homework and needed to be done.

"Bring on the pain!" a voice cried out.

"No way they are getting out of this one!"

Turning back to the billiards table, Caradan saw two Klingons circling the table eyeing the subject atop and figuring out how to proceed. She saw herself on that table with her Klingon torturer deciding how to cause her the most pain.

The crash of a table being turned over made her look back across the room. There was more drinking. A fight broke out. More cheers at the boxing match, curses at the other sporting events, more drinks being poured, drank, spilled, more balls breaking, more howls. The chaos of it all encircling Caradan.

"No," she said. "I can't..."

A hand slammed upon her shoulder and spun her around. "Computer, End Program," said the Klingon captain in her face.

Caradan nearly felt the need to lose herself into a pool of her natural state, but called out instead and stepped back.

"Sorry," said the mere human before her. "Didn't mean to scare you," he raised his voice over the ever-increasing volume of the crowd. "I said you should get with the program." He pointed to the monitors behind the bar. "The home team is winning." The man took a greedy gulp of his beverage and started off toward the bar in what barely would pass as a walk. The man was falling over himself but never actually fell down.

The overturned tabled earlier was simply someone falling out of his chair. The drinking and fighting Klingons were simply a few other cadets from the Academy having a good time.

Caradan even looked around the place, at the walls to ensure they did not suddenly become the hull of a Klingon vessel. She started toward the door. And, though it was only 20 feet away, worming her way around other patrons proved tedious and slowed her progress. Caradan had to wait at the door as a line of new patrons streamed in. She waited until there was barely a break in the line then squeezed her way back outside.

After stepping away from that chaos, did she realize she was breathing rapidly, almost hyperventilating, with lungs she did not even know she had mimicked. Reabsorbing them into her being, Caradan also felt a pounding heart in her chest, almost wanting to explode from anxiety. She reabsorbed that as well and then started fiddling with her hands only to realize her right hand, even gloved, was a twisted and malformed horror of a hand. It was partially melting back into her natural state and she shook it, flexed the fingers to get its shape and form back.

Shaking both her hands, Caradan stepped away to the street corner. The bustling business of the bar was still booming behind her. There were still people about but, comparing the population outside to the population inside the bar, Caradan almost felt in complete solitude. She felt safe and, forming an internal eye to look upon her tricorder which she stored in her head, she realized that she was only in that bar for about, "two minutes," she said. As she compared that with her times in the months and years previous since returning to the Academy, those two minutes was a new personal record.