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“Thoughts of Home "
(Previous Post: "Shifting Understandings")
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Setting: LOCUS #3
Stardate: 63148.1120

 

As Ensign Ttosk was quietly sitting in the back of the LOCUS piloted by the Shillian Commander, he thought to himself about how awful his last attempt at a joke had been.  Obviously comedy had not been something that he should contemplate as a possible future career.  Asking whether he should put Sonja *in* or *on top* of the LOCUS was now occurring to him as not having been the best idea.  If fact, the more he thought of this, the more he became certain that it had been one of his worst ideas yet.

The slight lack of emotion of it might have confused the rest of the away team, but Wydran continued on the journey in his mind and memories of the past.  As he was thinking of the time he had spent on EARTH at Starfleet Academy, the Zaldan giant recalled not having enjoyed most of it because he had found it rather cold.  The simple reason for this had been because of where he grew up on ZALDAN PRIME.

His ancestral home was located on a very large tropical island, near the planet’s equatorial region. Less than 100 meters from the front entrance a hot springs could be found, a place that the tall humanoid enjoyed visiting every chance he had.  The clear bubbling water of this spring had been so hot that just getting into the water would make any normal human sweat instantaneously.  Wydran also remembered a specific time when, as a young child, one of his older brothers added a large quantity of bubbly soap to the pool.  The nearly instant mountain of bubbles which had been created still made him smile to this day.

He always found the cool breeze on the island he called home most enjoyable despite them easily reaching 40 to 45 degrees Celcius.  It was not difficult to understand from this why the Zaldan would break out into uncontrollably shivers by just thinking of going back to Starfleet Academy in San Francisco.

His thoughts and pleasant memories of his home world we interrupted all too suddenly when a loud *CLANG* echoed through the LOCUS.  The sharp turn that quickly followed caused his head to knock rather forcefully against one of the top safety bars of the four-wheel craft.  After quickly regaining his wits, Wydran sighed as he easily imagined Lieutenant Paquette’s would-be laughter from miles away at the scene that he had been the one and only star of.

The Ensign sighed rubbing delicately the lump on his head matching his own imposing stature, silently dreading to himself the rest of what had been said would only be a two hour journey.  The Zaldan faintly smiled to himself as he pictured this time frame applying, according to the Terran expression, as the crow flies.  Of course this would only apply if said crow did not meet an unfortunate fiery end in this hell of a world that oddly enough the Flight Control Officer of the USS ANUBIS still found rather pleasant.

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Scott Moll

Ensign Wydran Ttosk
Flight Control Officer
USS ANUBIS, NCC 1850

“Carrot juice carrot juice carrot juice!”
-the Doctor(6)