A Most Illogical Gathering, Part 2

Posted on Wed May 21st, 2025 @ 11:44pm by Lieutenant JG Sylorik MD & Ensign Garabed "Garo" Hakobyan & Major Kett V'Laass & Lieutenant N'vok Holv & Lieutenant Commander Savar cha'Salik hei-Surak Talek-sen-deen [Taylor] & Lieutenant JG T'Kek [Naxea]

Mission: Season 6: Echoes of the Zynari
Location: Corridor outside Holodeck 2, Deck 11, USS Elysium
Timeline: MD3 1327 Hours
3534 words - 7.1 OF Standard Post Measure

Garo Hakobyan stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the sealed doors of Holodeck Two like they'd personally offended him. Maybe they had. This was the third holodeck in as many hours that had decided to trap its occupants in a sadistic feedback loop of broken safety protocols, overloaded emitters, and stubbornly sealed doors.

Garo tapped his combadge. "Ensign Hakobyan to Engineering."

[Go ahead, Ensign.]

"We've arrived at Holodeck Two," he reported. "Same issue as the previous ones."

[Understood. Keep us informed. Engineering out.]

The comm closed and Garo turned his attention to the day's next malfunctioning system.

"Holodeck number three," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "At this point, I am suspecting these things are unionized."

Behind him Specialist Echevarría from Operations was running a tricorder sweep, lips pursed as he tried to make sense of the data. Chief Petty Officer Vashti Rao crouched by the control panel, prying off the outer casing with practiced ease and a faint grimace.

Garo pointed his spanner at the door. "My aunt in Yerevan used to lock the bathroom from the inside, then climb out of the window just to avoid family dinners. This?" He tapped the panel. "This is exactly that kind of energy."

Echevarría snorted softly but didn't look up. "I'm reading internal atmospheric fluctuation. Holomatrix is still engaged. No sign of safety subroutines."

"And life signs?" asked Garo.

"Five. All Vulcan. Same as reported."

He sighed through his nose. "Trapped Vulcans. At least they will die with dignity and a properly alphabetized final log."

Rao, who had clearly heard this routine on the last two holodecks, didn't look up. "If I had a latinum bar for every malfunctioning EPS relay I've seen today..."

"You would be halfway to affording real vacation," said Garo. "Assuming you survive this one. We open this door, we might get fireworks display."

"Let's not jinx it," she murmured, half-annoyed with having to work with Hakobyan again. It's not that she didn't like him, it was just... something. She couldn't put her finger on it. He made her brain itch.

"Oh no, Rao jan, I do not jinx. I foreshadow. Very literary."

A warning chirp from her tricorder punctuated his comment. Rao frowned. "There's a live current running along the locking mechanism. Looks to be a secondary containing surge is building.

Garo stepped beside her, kneeling with a grunt that suggested he was no longer twenty. "Back home, my cousin Ashot tried to fix a plasma fryer while it was still plugged in. He spent two weeks speaking in Morse code."

Echevarría piped up from behind his tricorder. "Did he recover?"

"Mostly. Now he twitches when he hears replicator beeping."

Garo worked quickly, hands deft despite the stress, until the final access panel snapped open. A jet of amber, acrid-smelling smoke poured out. Sparks danced along the inner coils like fireflies.

"There," he said, perhaps a little too proudly. "I have unwrapped the gift. Let's see what is inside."

Rao gave Echevarría a nod. "Initiate a pulse-dampening field."

"Done," she confirmed. "You're clear to override the door controls."

Garo cracked his knuckles. "All right," he whispered to the holodeck doors. "Open up or I start quoting Andorian doggerel."

He pressed the override--perhaps with a little too much hesitation.

The doors beagn to shake. Sparks burst from the upper conduit. A hum that built into a whine--and then the doors parted with a stuttering groan, just wide enough to glimpse the dark interior of the holodeck.

For half a second, Garo saw nothing but flickering across the archway--then a blue-white arc of energy exploded from the exposed junction.

He had just enough time to grunt. "Not again--" before the current leapt across Rao, still knelt beside the junction. Garo immediately placed a hand on the Chief's back.

As the arc jumped out, it seemed to connect with Rao. The shock jolted through Garo like a sudden gust of arctic wind down his spine--sharp, seizing, then gone. He hit the deck with a grunt and muttered a curse in Armenian.

"Garo!" Echevarría shouted, rushing forward.

Flat on his back, Garo blinked up at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

"Well," he croaked, voice hoarse. "At least it wasn't my kissing hand."

Rao groaned beside him, chest heaving but otherwise spared the worst of the shock. "Remind me why I let you press the button?"

"Because, dear Rao, I have older siblings. Many. I am very good at being volunteered for things."

She gave a half-hearted giggle, still catching her breath.

Echevarría looked down at them both with a mix of exasperation and concern. "Can you move?"

Garo slowly lifted one hand, smoke curling from his glove. "Barely. But if this kills me, someone tell my mother I died heroically and with perfect hair."

* * *

Location: Holodeck Two
Timeline: 1325 Hours

The light had that harsh, unforgiving quality peculiar to Vulcan afternoons--suspended between fire and stillness, the way a forge waits before the first strike. Sand stretched outward in all directions, scrubbed clean from wind and time. In the courtyard, beneath the narrow reach of a s'vathra tree's shade, a young Sylorik stood.

He recognized the memory before the scene had fully resolved.

T'Vel stood across from him, hands folded neatly within the sleeves of her robe. Her posture was composed and her expression seemed composed even more so. The program had reconstructed her with unsettling accuracy--the faint downturn of her mouth when she disapproved, the infinitesimal lift of one brow when she through a falsehood but chose not to challenge it.

"You have accepted the Sh'Kiv appointment," she said.

The young Sylorik gave the expected response. "I have. It was the most statistically advantageous assignment available."

It had been years since he'd spoken those words. Longer still since he believed them.

The others--Kett, T'Kek, N'vok and Savar--were there too, silent observers at the edge of this memory. Their presence seemed superfluous and did not disturb the program. Perhaps it didn't even register them. They watched, as he had watched N'vok before, unable to interfere, unable to touch anything but feeling the weight of the memory on him.

Sylorik reached toward the s'vathra tree and plucked a sprig of leaves. He held it aloft in the artificial sunlight for a moment before bringing it close to his face for examination. After a moment, he turned his attention to the young figures of this memory.

His younger self seemed so self-assured--even for a Vulcan. A trait which would quickly fade with time, he reminded himself.

T'Vel's hand brushed young Sylorik's, briefly. A gesture subtle enough to be accidental, though Sylorik never truly believed that.

Sylorik turned to see the faces of the other Vulcans studying him. None seemed willing to say anything but their expectant expressions were evident.

Sylorik cleared his throat. "T'Vel was my betrothed," he said evenly, perhaps with a hint of regret. "Our koon-ut-la had merely been a convenience for our parents. When we finished medical school, it was expected by both families that we would wed in the traditional manner."

He glanced around as the sunlight began to fade and an unnatural wind seemed to kick-up the sand at their feet.

"This memory," continued Sylorik, "changed the course of both mine and T'Vel's lives. She would become a successful endocrinologist at the Daystrom Institute. She would marry." He paused, as the scene began to disappear. "I did not." He said the last as evenly as he could. The others no doubt sensed his regret but said nothing.

And then, inevitably, the courtyard began to dissolve. The sky fractured at first--cracks of golden light spreading across a cloudless blue canopy. The s'vathra tree unraveled, digit by digit, its leaving breaking into static and drifting upward like ash.

The environment began to swirl. A series of colours--blacks, whites, greys, and silvers--washed around the assembled Vulcan officers.

Sylorik realized he still held the s'vathra tree sprig in his hand. He glanced at Kett who also was carrying a remnant from a previous scent--the long stick.

Somewhere, outside this simulated space, they were still trapped.

Somewhere, the doors might be opening.

But the next memory was already rising to meet them.

The scene that formed was one that brought about some anxiety as the holodeck changed to family starship quarters. In front of the group were two figures, one was T'Kek as a teenager and the bother was a much older Vulcan, dressed in Ambassador robes. "T'Kek, I want to know where you have been. You were required to be home exactly one hour ago," he said in a stern tone.

"I was actually doing research for the upcoming science exam with Samantha Quinn," T'Kek replied.

"Ah, so that is what they are calling it now?" another young woman, yet older than T'Kek said, entering the quarters with a grin.

"I fault you for his lack of discipline, " T'Kek's father stated.

N'vok stepped back to watch, glancing to the adult T'Kek.

Sylorik felt a short surge of sympathy for T'Kek before reordering his internal emotions. He knew his upbringing was not at all typical and T'Kek's was certainly even less so aboard a starship.

"It was in a way my sister's fault. I looked up to her," T'Kek remarked.

"I should have had both of you raised on Vulcan," T'Kek's father continued. "Then perhaps you would not act so..."

"Human, father?" You married a human so they are not that bad," young T'Kek shot back, anger in his voice.

"Both of you go and prepare for dinner. Your mother should be home in fifteen minutes," T'Kek's father ordered.

"He was strict but he meant well. We still do not get along well," the adult T'Kek stated.

Sylorik clasped his hands behind his back, feeling the sprig of the s'vathra tree in his palm. "It is little consolation, T'Kek, but my father was also rigid."

Savar watched in silence. This all seemed similar to his own experience. As the images swirled and vanished only to be replaced with a scene from his past. A classroom, a teacher obviously annoyed but struggling to control her emotions. And a teenage Savar. His teacher removing him from class., expelling him. He was declared continually & unrepentantly "over-emotional" by his family & teachers & was sent to a Vulcan
Master for rigorous mental training - Nath-Pal-Nahr. This occurred after he was expelled (yet again) from classes after a repetitive number of "emotional" incidents, establishing a clear pattern of disruptive
behavior. The Nath-Pal-Nahr is considered the last chance for a young person to gain control over emotions and be welcomed in normal Vulcan society. Failure to accept or finish the Nath-Pal-Nahr will invariably
lead to being declared "vrekasht" (outcast).

"You must learn control Savar, it is for your own benefit" The teacher was saying to him and his father Salik. "You do not wish to be declared vrekasht. "Why? Why must I learn to corral my emotions? To not show what I feel?" he questioned. His father stared coldly at him. "Enough Savar. You question but do not see. Emotions cloud your ability to see, to arrive at a logical conclusion. Therefore you will be sent to a Master to teach you control. It is for your own good." What followed was a painful reminder as he was sent to a Vulcan master and emotional control was achieved (sort of) for he still had the occasional emotional outbursts and allowed his control to relax around Alicia. More so his strained relationship with his father that still existed to this day.

N'vok looked distressed. "It causes me sorrow that you have all been so ill-served by Vulcan tradition and schooling. For me, the experience was rigorous and demanding but ultimately uplifting."

Perhaps for the first time since the simulation began, Sylorik turned toward the others--not merely to observe, but to include.

"This program is not random," he said. "It presents us with pivotal memories--moments that shaped who we are." His gaze drifted to N'vok, to T'Kek, then Savar. "If it wished only to torment us, it would have chosen failures. Humiliations. Instead, it chooses inflection points."

The air shimmered once more--an artificial breeze seemed to pull at the corners of the room. In the next instant, the memory around them dissolved, leaving only barren darkness.

"We, as a species, are telepathic," mused N'vok. "Is it possible that the visitors are able to pick up on that and are using this as a way to . . . understand us?"

"Perhaps then they could switch the lights on?" Queried Kett in dissatisfaction

The swirling blacks, greys, whites and silvers seemed to reach a critical velocity and Sylorik felt like he might lose his balance for a moment. In short order, the colours seemed to slow and they were now standing inside a subterranean cavern--at the end of a corridor near a cell. The air was stale and the smell of unwashed bodies lingered. Dim lighting flickered from recessed panels in the ceiling, casting long, eerie shadows.

The corridor was narrow, carved from damp stone and the walls were streaked with rust-red minerals. The sound of boots caught their attention--hard leather scraping against uneven floor.

Two Cardassian guards appeared, dragging a limp figure by its legs. One stopped to unlock and open the cell door.

At last, the heavy door groaned open on ungreased hinges revealing a small, cramped cell lit by a single yellowed fixture. Inside, three Bajoran prisoners stirred from their corners, rising slowly as the guards shoved the limp body inside.

The body seemed to stir slightly but the bloodied face masked an immediate identification.

Sylorik looked to T'Kek, unsure what they were witnessing.

With cheek pressed to the cold stone, the injured figure tried to rise.

One of the Bajorans reached for him with gentle hands--cautious but practiced. Quickly a cup of water appeared at his lips and a strip of cloth was already soaking in a bowl, ready to press against the figure's open wounds.

They wiped some of the blood from the figure's face and a pointed ear seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"So" said Kett with emotionless irreverence. "We appear to be witnessing some of my personal history. Interesting the holodeck has made a replica simulation of my time in a Cardassian Labour Camp on Bajor when i was a POW."

Savar watched the scene before him. "It seems to me that we are witnessing scenes that are meant to illicit emotional responses from us. To perhaps show how we have grown and broaden ourselves because of these encounters."

"Perhaps," said N'vok. "But to what end? Do they require strong emotion to better understand us? I admit, I dislike playing the role of the rat moving through a maze . . . especially not knowing if there will be cheese or a trap at the end."

Savar shook his head, "No. I think it is more to see what we are made of, our inner strength. To forge lives, loves and careers when so many misunderstand us. Including our own countrymen." He looked at his companions, "This is to understand us."

Sylorik nodded more to himself than anything that was said. "I am forced to agree with Commander Savar," he said flatly. "However, there is another factor we have forgotten."

He glanced from face to face and with an outstretched arm, palm-up, he indicated the entire group. "We are Vulcan," he said. "Why are we five together in this holodeck reliving emotionally-charged events from our past?"

" I do not know but it is annoying" T'Kek stated with a sigh. "However, it certainly is not a coincidence. "

Sylorik watched as a wet piece of cloth was pressed against a nasty gash to the younger Kett's forearm. "It seems the Bajoran prisoners took great care of you," he remarked to Elysium's group commander.

"Indeed" said Kett with a gentle nod of his head. Watching the unfolding scene without feeling. But with many memoried boiling to the surface. "This is not logical. To get an emotional response from Vulcans...." he trailed off a little.

"I believe I may have an answer. These incidents are all pivotal moments in our lives that helped to shape and mold us into who we are today. They represent turning points in our lives." Savar stated in a cool monotone.

"It is fascinating," said N'vok. "When we get out, perhaps by analyzing the holodeck logs we may be able to learn how our visitors interfaced with the control system. It may give us a way to communicate with them."

Just as N'vok finished his words, the world around them shimmered and disappeared completely--leaving only the grid of the holodeck and a very welcome silence.

Sylorik sighed with more than a small amount of satisfaction.

Gaining their bearings once more, they spied the holodeck doors and, as a group, made their way toward it.

The experience was now over. Whatever the purpose of their sojourn through memory lane, each Vulcan was content to return to their previous activities.

* * *

Location: Holodeck Two
Timeline: 1552 Hours


Specialist Echevarría crouched between the two singed crewmembers, one brow raised as he ran a scanner over them. "Well, your biosigns are erratic, but not critical."

"Good," Garo wheezed, levering himself up onto one elbow. "If I have to die, I would prefer it happen without the stink of burnt hair in my nose."

Rao shoved his shoulder just hard enough to make him wince. "Says the man who nearly fried us both because he couldn't resist being dramatic with a door."

"Not dramatic," Garo muttered. "Just efficient."

The three of them turned back to the holodeck doors, now partially open, the interior still crackling with faint arcs of energy. The light within had shifted--no longer the deep, flickering blue of malfunctioning systems, but a much steadier, warmer glow.

"Something's changed," Echevarría said, gesturing to his tricorder. "Matrix harmonics are stabilizing. Internal EM radiation is dropping."

"Looks like their simulation is still running," Rao added, checking the panel. "But the feedback loop's collapsing. We've got partial control."

Garo groaned as he finally sat up fully. "Good. We will take partial control for now." He ran a hand through his lightly singed hair and asked, "Do we know what the program is?"

Rao shook her head as she tried to access the program contents. "All I see are fluctuating environmental controls and the holodeck's history indicates all five are in close proximity."

Echevarría gave her a sidelong glance. "Should we pull them out now?"

Rao hesitated, her hand hovering over the manual shutdown key. "Not unless we have to. They're stable in there--for now. Whatever this is, it's... working through something."

"Five Vulcans trapped in some shared program?" Garo muttered. "Worst group therapy session in Federation history!"

Echevarría allowed himself a tiny grin. "Should we call Lieutenant Commander Savar?"

"Only if we want someone to out-Vulcan the ones inside," Rao replied. "Besides, how do we know he's not in there?"

They all stood there for a long moment, watching the strange flickering light through the open arch.

Garo finally sighed and pulled a ration bar from his toolkit, tearing it open with the weariness of someone who'd had enough of malfunctions and glitches for one shift. "Wake me when next one tries to electrocute me," he said, chewing grimly. "Or when they come out looking contemplative. Either way."

Rao smirked. "You're assuming Vulcans do emotionally reconcile."

Garo pointed his ration bar at her like a lecture pointer. "When they do, I am certain it is dramatic. Stoic tears and operas composed in monotone."

Echevarría leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. "I'm just hoping they don't break the anything on the way out."

Garo chuckled dryly. "Hope springs eternal. Unlike EPS relays."

Suddenly, the holodeck doors opened fully. Echevarría and Rao exchanged baffled looks, muttering in unison, "That wasn't me."

Before Garo could take another bite of his ration bar, five Vulcans strode out of the holodeck--single file and without a word. Their uniforms bore faint marks from dust and some slight creasing but otherwise there were no visible injuries.

Spying Sylorik, Garo stepped forward. "Lieutenant," he said with a big smile. "Nice to see you unharmed."

Before Sylorik could reply, a medical team rounded the corner at a brisk jog, tricorders already in hand. One nurse began to speak, but faltered as she took-in the scene--no injuries, no distress. Just five Vulcans, apparently unfazed, though a perceptive eye might have noticed the minute delay when one of them blinked.

"We are unharmed," said Sylorik.

The nurse nodded and turned to her team. "Let's get them to Sickbay just to be sure." She turned to the engineering team and added, "When you're finished here, report to Sickbay."

As the Vulcans departed, Echevarría blew out his cheeks. He turned to Rao, "I think our work here is done," he said.

Garo popped the last piece of the bar into his mouth and chewed slowly.

"No," said Garo between some ugly chomping. "Now we have a holodeck to repair."

* * *

Major Kett V'Laass
Lieutenant N'vok Holv
Lieutenant Commander Savar
Lieutenant JG Sylorik
Lieutenant JG T'Kek