To Each Their Own
Posted on July 6th, 2005 by T'Kirr and Adam Drake
T’Kirr and Adam Drake
The silence in the fighter bay was permeating, except for the muted drone of the warp core and the busy beeping of T’Kirr’s hand scanner, her sensitive hearing picking up its slight echo off the distant walls. Silent, just the way she preferred it. Having that morning told all of her staff but Logan and Ellis they would be transferring to the USS Discovery in two days time, her newly-assigned duty was to make sure the Mustangs were fit for service. Naturally, they would be in top condition at all times, but she had to make sure herself, as she would be in charge of their operation during the mission to assist the Xindi.
He walked into the fighter bay and walked across the room. His boots made a clicking sound that shattered the calm serenity of the bay. He almost smirked as he strolled up to her. “Lieutenant, do you have a moment?”
T’Kirr turned to him. “Of course.”
“I wanted to speak to you before about, well, before.” He had a hard time finding the words. The entire atmosphere of the ship had been shoved into high gear and tensions were already beginning to run high. Part of him was happy that he wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of his fellow crewmates during transport. “I want to say goodbye.”
T’Kirr closed her scanner and held it behind her with both hands as she gave Drake her full attention. She parted her lips, about to answer with, “Goodbye,” but it didn’t seem appropriate. Drake wished to say more. Instead, she took a soft breath and said, “You will be missed.”
“I want to say that you are the only person I’ve connected with here. Certainly I have friends in Engineering and friends in the Corps, but it’s not the same. I owe you a debt of gratitude among words for simply being a friend and an ear to talk to.” He offered her his hand, it quivering slightly with nervousness. “You will be the one I shall miss.”
She clenched her jaw and swallowed. Rarely did emotion surface so easily within her. The full-Betazoid before her had been the heart of it, and in a way, the thought that it would no longer trouble her was a comfort. Still, she could see his tension, feel the emotion emanating from his mind. His hand was offered to her, and she was supposed to take it. Would it break her control? Of course not. She took his hand, not knowing what to say.
It overtook him so forcefully that he pulled her into a hug whether the Vulcan wanted it or not. “I know you have strife in you too, T’Kirr, you just are better at hiding it. If you ever need someone to talk to, you know how to contact me and I’ll contact you with where I find myself settling.” After a moment longer, he released her. “Take care of yourself, OK?”
She searched his eyes. “I will.” As she struggled to recover from the unexpected embrace, T’Kirr slowly lifted her hand, fingers parted in two. “Peace, and long life, Adam Drake.” Pausing a moment, she added, “We will see each other again.”
Adam nodded, “I hope so.” Silently he turned and trekked back across the bay. Halfway across he stopped, looked over his shoulder at her, and swivelled around. “You’re not happy here.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“I can almost sense it. You’re not happy onboard Atlantis. In Starfleet.”
“If I wasn’t, I assure you, I wouldn’t be here.”
Adam smiled, “Well, when you figure it out for yourself and admit it, then you know how to contact me. Just know that a job someplace unhappy is an unhappy job. You could be elsewhere using your talents for far greater purposes. Yes, you are here.” He shrugged, “I don’t see any logic in that, do you?”
“Despite the goal of many races to ‘find happiness’, it is not one of mine. My talents are valuable to this ship and crew. At least, I believe them to be.”
Nodding compassionately, Adam turned on his heel. “I’m sure you do, but you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about doing more productive work elsewhere. Farewell, T’Kirr, I look forward to the time when we can see each other again. And good luck on the upcoming mission. Something tells me you’re going to need it.”
T’Kirr was about to comment about the absurd concept of ‘luck’, but decided better of it. She wasn’t sure what he meant by her being more productive elsewhere, but its answer didn’t seem important to her. Her eyes locked on his retreating form, and as the bay doors closed behind him, she softly muttered, “Goodbye,” before the Fighter Bay’s silence returned to comfort her tumultuous mind.