Wake Up

Why did he resist ingesting Bartokian substances?  The Bartokians believed he hated them, and that this was why.  But it was time to put some things in perspective.  He did not hate them.  In fact, he respected them; a respect that grew in his short time aboard this ship.  They had done nothing wrong to Arcadians.  They did nothing at all to Arcadians, and in fact might soon intervene in his people's defense.  They might not agree with his people's practices, just as he didn't agree with those in Bartokian culture (sex with their own children... yeesh).  But it was time also for him to remember where he came from... why he was doing this.  Why he was who he was.

In the course of Starfleet service, he'd been so long in the company of non-humans, some of whom did hate humans and vice versa, that it had tainted his entire world perception, until the point that he saw any alien as a threat, even those not out to harm humans.  Hate and anger had consumed him.  He had even seen Milla's generous offer (despite the fact he had to betray his principles to accept it) as something dastardly and twisted... not realizing until now the amount of power she placed in his hands.  He refused, and was willing to live with it, but realized now that he had been looking at it from a colored perception.  She did not have to even offer him that opportunity, but she did.  Perhaps he would have to re-evaluate the mysterious woman-turned-Q.

Arcadians were supposed to represent the best of what humanity had to offer, free of alien influence or persecution.  Had his attitude the past few days painted him as a typical Arcadian... or even a noble person?  Humanists were human nationalists/separatists.  Not human supremacists.  (Some espoused human supremacy, but not all... mostly from a genetic perspective.  Some believed they were a master race; some didn't.  Semantics.  Their arguments were compelling, however.)  Non-Humanists often missed the distinction.  People often got the wrong idea about 'nationalists', based on stereotypical hype pounded into their heads by popular media (which the aliens controlled, and used in an attempt to discredit them).  Nationalism was the belief that peoples and nations should be in charge of their own destinies.  Were Humanists racist?  They preferred the term racialist.  For the Humanists, race was a factor.  It had to be: The future of their species was in jeopardy.  Humans worked for the preservation of alien species, yet how often did alien species work for the preservation of humanity?  Other than the mysterious 'Preservers' discovered in the 23rd century... never.  Humanists wanted to preserve humanity.  Yet for some reason others felt that that was somehow wrong... to want to survive, to know that their grandchildren's grandchildren would look like their own children and carry on their legacy.  They acted out of love for their own kind, not hate for others.  The frustrations and prejudice of a few got the better of them, until they saw demons coming out of the walls.

Staring at the ceiling in the quarters aboard this Bartokian vessel, graciously loaned to him by these Bartokians, Paul Thunder saw, with shame, that he had let himself slip into the ranks of those few.

The pendulum swung both ways.  Racists were accused of hate.  Those who hated racists were just as guilty of it.  Their hate took over and dominated them.  Even the very word "racism" had achieved a dark shadow, as if making race a factor was a sin, when it was the association in people's minds that carried a negative connotation.  Racism was not automatically evil.  There was nothing wrong with being proud of your race, and resisting changes which threatened it.  Some simply went too far, to extremes.  Understanding and openness was needed to resolve any schisms, not more hate fueling the fire.

Paul did not recall saying anything inflammatory against the ti klec or her crew based on their Bartokian-ness, other than an initial refusal to let the CMO treat him.  He was not sure that technically he owed them an apology for something he didn't do.  But he wanted to show his gratitude, at least... prove to them that not all Arcadians were bad guys.  Just sharing information that might save their world from Federation agendas didn't seem enough.  That was business; it also served his own people's interests.  It wasn't personal--and it needed to be personal.  He wasn't sure what he could do, towards that end... but he knew where he might begin.

He asked the replicator to give him water and a simple protein bar.  It tasted awful, but real food might not be a good idea yet, where he was going.  He removed his Starfleet uniform, stuffed it in the slot and punched in a cleaning cycle.  It only took a few seconds.  By the time he returned from the restroom (and a quick, much-needed sonic shower), it was fresh and ready to go.

Before donning it, he picked it up and studied it.  Would he ever serve in Starfleet again?  This wasn't a Starfleet vessel, and he didn't expect to need it in the near future.  But life's lessons taught one to be prepared, for anything.  Always try to think ahead; be prepared; plan for the worst; plan for anything.  Who was attacking Arcadia?  The Federation, directly?  Starfleet ships?  Having a Starfleet uniform could be useful in a crunch moment.  And, it was tailor-made, like all Starfleet uniforms--custom-fit for the wearer.  It was comfortable... like a second skin, padded in the right places.  He decided to keep it for now, and put it on.