Conversation

"I'm glad you suggested meeting in the arboretum," Mehera Galthrax told Mala.  "Despite all the upgrades and changes elsewhere in the Arcadia, the arboretum looks nearly the same as when I saw it last."  Mehera and Mala sat together on a wooden bench surrounded by blooming red-bud and dogwood trees in the English Spring section of the arboretum.  Just beyond the trees patches of daffodils and wildflowers drew their gaze.  The environment was completely natural, except for the holocreated blue sky and a mid-distance sun-hazed fog which enclosed this section from other arboretum areas.

Despite its beauty, and despite what she'd just said, Mehera realized she wasn't altogether happy to be in this part of the Arcadia.  Its familiarity induced a nostalgia that mingled loss with pleasure – loss that she inwardly acknowledged, but didn't necessarily like being reminded of.  But that's all part of being here, she told herself.

"I trust your visit here has been enjoyable," Mala said.  "I'm sure Lily is glad you came.  She's missed you."

"And I've missed her."  Mehera paused, momentarily overcome by a flood of memories.  "Lily and Clicker and I – can you imagine what an odd threesome we were? "  Mehera laughed.  "Even with the wonders of holocommunication, there's a special feeling that comes from being physically present.  Here again.  Lily appreciates your friendship, Mala, as well as your facilitating her entry into flight control."

Mala nodded.  "I'm glad that's worked out so well for her.  I intend to see her more often, now that we're both back on board.  So much had been happening – on the Arcadia and with me – any free time just collapsed."

"Oh, I'm sure there's always something happening on the Arcadia!"  Mehera paused again.  "I hope you aren't feeling any pressure or anxiety about talking with me, Mala.  Everything you tell me will remain in my confidential files.  Any information or quotes will be written up as anonymous for published articles."

"Thank you for that assurance.  Of course I trust your professionalism.  But I must admit to not having favorable memories of my year at the research facility.  Although, looking back, I understand that many of my problems were caused by my own attitude of resentment.  I trained in flight control, and that's what I wanted to do!  I knew I'd be good at it.  And I have been." She laughed and shrugged.  "I'm honest in my self-assessment."

Mehera nodded.  "You wouldn't be CFO of the Arcadia, or lieutenant commander, if you weren't good at your job."

"I'm sure you've read the info the researchers put into my file," Mala said.  "My cybernetic implant was created by my aunt, who was certainly ahead of her time.  She'd feel much more at home in the Federation now than she ever did.  If she'd lived.  Anyway, I haven't changed my brain-wiring since that time.  Though I also use complants and armpadds now, aligning myself with the same technologies as the rest of the crew."

"Do you feel that your implant has brought any significant differences to your profession, something that can't be achieved by more easily available technology?"

"Actually, there seems less and less difference between my abilities and what can be done by external interfacing.  When I was in the Academy, and for the first few years after, my abilities seemed unusual to others, and felt well – special – to me.  Oh, make no mistake – I'm grateful for my cybernetics.  Even though these days they give me little advantage that others can't match.  It's similar to what you said a few minutes ago about having a special feeling from being physically present.  My linking into the navigational programs of starships and support craft gives an immediacy of experience, and something I think of as intimacy.  I know that sounds peculiar.  But it feels like a part of me is touching spacetime, and there's a uniqueness to each coordinate, to each subspace path between coordinates.  I recognize them as landmarks; some I find particularly beautiful.  Sometimes I'm not sure if it's just me who is feeling this, but maybe also the ship itself.  And slipstream drive is – well, something else entirely!  It's as if thousands of light-threads created a tapestry, and they suddenly all fall apart, allowing the ship entry, then instantly weave themselves together again."  Mala stopped, then shook her head.  "I don't know what you can make of all that.  But you did ask."  She laughed, and then looked away, glancing through the trees, as if self-conscious.

"I did ask," Mehera agreed.  "And I thank you.  I appreciate the honesty and vividness of your expression."

Mehera wondered if Mala had ever expressed those feelings and experiences to Stephen April.  He would certainly be fascinated.  I wonder if the two of them have become friends.  Or if the formalities of rank and differences in age have prevented that.  If so, it would be a shame.  They'd benefit from one another's company.

But this wasn't the time for Mehera to think of Stephen.  That brought too many thoughts and feelings in its wake.  She wanted to see Stephen too, while she was on board – the first time they'd be physically in one another's presence in several years.  The first time since she'd walked away from him, and he'd been unable to walk at all.