1043: Acceptance

By Rada Dengar
100223.01
Many Long Hours After Lost in Transit


-=San Francisco, Earth=-


On the outside there were murmurs, the angry all too hurried laughter, and the half heard bits of meaningless conversation from the crowd that seemed to have grown from a blur to a wave that washed around him tugging him to and fro.

On the inside it all seemed to so strongly enforce that he was out of control and out of place here but it was more than just that, though. He felt like he was the only one who was silent, the only one with nothing to say and nowhere to go.
Even the travellers so lost from impossibly far away lands seemed to chatter excitedly amongst themselves about this terrifying experience. He was the only one who belonged nowhere, or at least nowhere there was anyone else.

He’d landed the shuttle in San Francisco at Starfleet Headquarters or rather it’d landed itself because he’d never been much of a pilot. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he’d simply stayed inside the shuttle with the lights turned down for such a long time when he arrived, knowing full well he had landed but with no place he’d had reason to travel.

Eventually the door had been lowered and he’d been ushered onward in that undeniably polite tone people give to vagrants they don’t wish to risk upsetting but whom the sight of is a bother to them and other normal people.

Of course, this was twenty-fourth century Earth where there was not supposed to be homelessness anymore. However while technically they could cure the situation for anyone by providing a roof over their head and perhaps a meal, homelessness existed with far more complicated definitions. One thing Rada was certain of was that he had no home even if he could find somewhere to sleep tonight.

He didn’t have much of anything. He had currency in the bank, he was sure. However all he’d had on the Alchemy that he’d been able to carry were some meager possessions some of which would seem quite out of place for a man who was no longer in Starfleet let alone one of their engineers.

He’d had a spare uniform and some old plain clothes he’d brought to Sibalt should the situation warrant wearing something that he could risk being damaged. He’d also had a single book that he’d been trying to figure out, a flimsy Earth story aimed at a child he’d had replicated when he’d been racking his mind trying to figure out how he knew about it.

He’d brought no pictures and nothing of any sentimental value. Anything Starfleet issue besides the uniform had been left on the ship including his tricorder and various PADDs containing information he had no right to now. He did have a scanner of his own, an outdated Angosian design that was little more than a toy compared to most of what Starfleet had used and which he’d only bothered to take on the mission because it didn’t even speak the same language as Starfleet equipment and so may have avoided a virus that others could not in an emergency. Similarly he also had an old-fashioned paper notepad just because he’d been there when they’d lost power before and knew just how vital it could be. Yes, he often considered if things could go wrong but he’d never imagined any of this. He now realised he could only hope that somewhere in that mess was a pen.

His possessions all quite easily fitted into the one duffel he still carried over his shoulder. Clearly he wasn’t particularly well prepared but he’d always just assumed he’d be returning to the ship at least one more time. It was admittedly more than he’d come into the world with. He doubted though that it was enough to start again.

His pockets of course contained the toffees he’d had earlier that he’d not been able to bring himself to eat, a cloth he always kept and now as well as three pips he felt had no place on his uniform anymore. He’d never cared for it in the past, but he couldn’t bear it now if anyone were to salute him. He had disgraced Starfleet with his every action; he’d been totally out of place in that noble institute of peace.

That was part of why he realised he had to leave Starfleet grounds as soon as he could, but with no place to go he seemed to stall the second he’d reached the gate. It was like he’d just been banished from the Garden of Eden of the old Terran legend and didn’t know quite how to live outside of paradise yet.

Still he was new to this world, if not to the Earth itself then to his current place or rather lack thereof upon it. So he’d travelled to where most new people to the Earth or at least this area first came. There was a place in San Francisco, he forgot the name, fenced off for security where small ships and transport vessels from all peaceful races could land. The entrance was adorned by so many steps atop which one could find information but never instruction about where to go and what they could do. It was looking up these steps within the flood of different beings coming down that Rada now stood. It was amazing how much he felt out of place in the midst of a remarkable diversity of species which just seemed to reinforce everything he was feeling about the galaxy in general.

It was true they were mostly humans but there were also a collection of Vulcans who by the sound of it had come for a symposium and he even saw a Bolian who’d brought his cheerful face and evidently his many dreams. There were in fact more species than he could identify and there was even a fellow Angosian to be seen. He was a young man who could so easily have been mistaken for human but the dull clothing was a give away of his origins and everything of his manner only confirmed Rada’s suspicions. Somehow Angosians so often seemed to know each other this way.

Rada wondered though if he could even be recognised for Angosian now. An Angosian who’d killed was like a Klingon who’d chosen never to do so but such deviation was something his people found much harder to understand than even the Klingons would from their own. Briefly he thought of stopping the young man before he passed him to greet him, but quickly he realised the boy was as much a stranger to him as was anyone else here. They may have shared an ancestry but he’d just left an entire ship of people with whom he shared a much stronger history so he couldn’t pick and choose to give it more importance now.

He knew he must not dwell on the past. He’d lost too much to carry in his baggage if he ever hoped again to move. So he turned back to the city behind him and set out walking, in a remarkably rare display trusting it to his heart to tell him when it was time to stop. However as it turned out it was the people who moved so busily around him who’d decided to tell him where to go.

“Excuse me,” he’d said as he attempted to move through but no one seemed to hear him.

He was a man of a quiet voice that hadn’t spoken in quite some time and an unthreatening disposition in a galaxy that paid attention to neither. So instead he simply continued to move with the crowd until one by one they dispersed into the city until he finally realised he was walking alone. It really didn’t feel any different.

For what must have been hours he simply walked through these streets alone, stopping occasionally including once in a shop to pick up some civilian clothing but more often than not being wise enough to judge by the looks the people gave him that stopping wasn’t a good idea here. The streets seemed to have gradually gotten darker as the buildings had quickly gotten older and the people much less friendly. Evidently he’d found one of those forgotten back streets which was said to feature the ‘real people’ but which in truth simply featured those the Earth wasn’t as proud to call its own.

His heart in the end told him nothing, it was the tiring of his legs and the rumbling of his stomach which told him it was time to stop in a small and almost deserted street. He thought he would grab a meal before he looked for accommodation and so automatically moved towards the run down tavern nearest his position.

He moved to the door and removed a cloth from his pocket to try to pull it open when it didn’t recognise his approach. He took hold and began to try to force it but it wasn’t moving and something was wrong. He was prepared to fight against it fiercely to get in but then suddenly his stopped as his mind seemed to clear of a fog he hadn’t noticed. Looking up now he saw a sign quite clearly displayed; a message giving notice this place has closed down.

Indeed it was boarded off, the only building here with no lights at all, and there should have been no way he could have missed that it was so. Yet he’d moved towards it without thinking which he supposed just must have been his stomach leading him towards where it thought food should be. It felt like there was more than that though but still he realised it was late now and while there may be restaurants open later the motels and hotels would be filling up fast.

As he turned back around he noticed his hands were now bathed in red light and when he looked up he found it was from a sign above which thanks to the failing letters suggested there was ‘v ancy’ which meant unless the two other letters from the darkened ‘no’ that preceded it were also failing that there was a room to be had here.

It did not look like the most respectable establishment nor the most comfortable, the safest or any number of things he cared about. Still his legs were very tired and he had no communication device to call for transport anywhere else. Besides, something inside him seemed to think there was a reason to give it a go. It was after all true this place wasn’t him, but then it seemed neither was he right now.

So he stepped into the lobby to find it dimly lit just enough to say whoever was in charge could light it more but preferred it this way. Behind the old and dust covered counter stood and old and due to his lack of movement nearly dust covered man. He eyes Rada suspiciously as he approached before finally he barked his standard greeting.

“What do you want?” The old man said with a scowl.

“I’d like a room please,” Rada answered innocently enough leading the man to sarcastically raise his eyebrows.

“Nah, really? You don’t say?” He asked loudly before finally lowering his eyebrows again to a state of apathetic disdain. “Of course you want a room genius. I need to know what type.”

“Oh, just something small,” Rada answered, knowing space would only emphasise the fact he had nothing and no one to fill it. “Preferably with a view.”

The man almost seemed amused by the suggestion but his tone was cruel and conveyed no joy in what he was saying.

“We have a very nice view of the dump across the street.” He mocked as he crossed his arms. “Is that the type of thing you’re looking for?”

“That’ll be fine,” Rada answered absently, actually feeling such a view would be a good thing.

Something about that place still lingered in his mind and he thought he’d like a room looking over it.

The old man was clearly impervious to whatever Rada may have been feeling, as little and depressing as it was, and so simply continued on addressing him as he would everyone else he didn’t like.

“You’re in Starfleet so I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of money. How do I know you’re going to be able to pay?”

“I have currency,” Rada answered quietly, pulling some of the latinum from his pocket that he’d had to get from the bank in order to go to the clothing store when he recalled he had no credit pass and shovelling it on the table. “I’ll pay in advance for the week.”

Suspiciously the old man examined the currency before he scrapped it into his hand to then put under the counter. The Angosian had actually given him more than the cost of the week’s accommodation but then he never usually got tips so he thought it was only fair he keep it.

“Fine,” he said dramatically, as if he felt he was doing Rada a favour letting him stay in one of several empty rooms. He then slapped a paper ledger up on the counter that he’d been using ever since the computer went down and began to scribble in it on the nearest room with the promised ‘view’. “Name?” the old man then asked raising an eyebrow and when Rada didn’t answer immediately he quickly lost patience. “Look, be whoever you want to be. I really don’t care. You’d be amazed of the number of ‘John Smith’s who stay here.”

“Rada Dengar,” Rada then immediately answered, because he couldn’t let himself forget that was still who he was.

The old man then simply shrugged his shoulder, seeming not to have notice the speed of his reaction and not really caring why Rada would or wouldn’t want to give his name. He then reached up and pulled an identity key from where it was hanging on a hook on the wall and dropped it on Rada’s hands.

“Enjoy,” the man said sarcastically with a half smile that said he knew Rada was far too quiet the type to be enjoying himself in a place like this.

Rada ignored his comment and simply set off for his room. According to the number on his key he was in room 23 which by what he’d observed of the system of numbers meant it was on the second floor. He didn’t bother to look around for any sort of turbolift system and instead chose to take the stairs that judging from the dust as he walked them seemed like no one else ever did.

Soon in spite of the weight of his body and the soreness of his feet he arrived on his intended floor and quickly located his door. Scanning the key over the reader the door opened for him and as he stepped in he found it remarkable that it somehow seemed even dustier in here than it was on the outside.

As he entered the lights came on which was really not a good look for this place. There was not a lot to see but then he wouldn’t have wanted a room that clashed with his life so far. There was a bed which with a bit of luck would be wide enough for one and which was overlooking a screen built in the wall that Rada doubted could even be used. There was no closet but at least there was a nightstand in the small gap between the bed and the window. That window had blinds closed across it hiding the view though not entirely keeping out the street lights.

The only other room was the attached tiny bathroom beside the viewscreen and perhaps a metre from the edge of the bed with in an anticlockwise order a toilet, a sonic shower and a basin and barely enough space to stand in between. Even though the shower was sonic there was a towel hung over it and still Rada decided it’d be better if he was to buy his own.

Rada did feel after such a long journey that his hands could use a clean but he wasn’t sure this particular bathroom would do much to improve the state of them. So instead he simply sat his duffel on the bed and began to pack the clothing into the drawers of the nightstand which was empty except for a breakfast card placed on top and a Bible in the highest drawer. He was suddenly no longer in the mood to think of food and certainly couldn’t think of spiritual enlightenment. He’d heard what these books said happened to people like him. So both of these things were moved to the side and soon his duffel was empty so he packed that too into the bottom drawer. The only thing he’d kept out was the new change of clothes he’d soon exchanged his uniform for.

They were baggy, grey and comfortable and as he folded his uniform and put it in the drawer as well, he now knew that he had just closed off the last connection to his past life.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror that was hung over the basin against the bathroom wall through the open door, he could see that he didn’t look at all now like Lieutenant Commander Rada Dengar. He wasn’t in uniform. He wasn’t neat. He needed a shave and his hair was out or order. He wasn’t just tired but he was exhausted and his mind contained none of the complexity of thought that could be found there. Worst though were the eyes and it was like staring into those of a stranger and that amazement held his attention for several moments before he finally realised how ridiculous this all was.

Intentionally looking away he noticed that built in the wall beneath the viewscreen was some sort of refrigeration device and as he opened the door he found it to be packed full of chocolates and alcoholic beverages, undoubtedly all at an inordinate mark up and likely well past their time. Rada never drank, especially not alone, but the man who belonged in this room apparently did and so Rada removed one beer from the fridge and opened it without taking a drink. He couldn’t see where he was supposed to discard the can around here but he’d think about that later on; it wasn’t exactly a big problem right now.

For now he moved to the window and finally raised the blind to let himself overlook the boarded up tavern below. The view was just as promised and in keeping with tradition showed him nothing that could be of any use. The view felt somehow familiar but then maybe that was because you had to overlook hell before you could first go there.

As if to punctuate the depressing nature of his situation Rada finally took of a swig of his beer. As the bitter liquid hit his tongue though he was reminded that though this may be somewhere he could sleep he wasn’t the man who belonged here anymore than he belonged back on that ship. Frustrated to have wasted the money but too numb to really care he placed the can down on the nightstand, instinctively looking for a coaster but soon realising they didn’t exist in places like this.

It hadn’t been a complete waste though as it reminded him of something he’d known but had forgotten though it was nothing to do with the events that he had lost. It reminded him that you could go where someone else goes and do what they do but you’ll never be who they are unless you were to begin with.

He’d learnt that lesson the hard way, much of it in this very city as a much younger man, and considering that he now began to recall the young Angosian who’d passed him by on those steps. There was an eagerness about him that told Rada he was all ready and prepared to find a buyer for his untarnished soul.

Rada had been that young man once, and thinking of that quickly led him to the thoughts of who he’d been before which led him to Angosia III. He realised now almost like it was the first time he’d had the thought that he could go to what was once called home, not just to visit but to stay- to the delight and torment of those who’d never left. For a moment it didn’t seem too bad to see familiar skies and to walk barefoot upon the familiar grass he’d known as a child.

However he quickly lost that thought from his mind as he realised the horror of just what he was considering compared to even this place. There’d been a reason he’d left which still hadn’t changed. Though it would amaze even the greatest of his friends to hear the suggestion, as it would anyone who’d never been to his world, Rada was a sort of a rebel in the time before he’d left. It was not the classic rebellion of fast automobiles and cheap Romulan ale. It was a rebellion of the mind and more importantly the mouth. He’d said things that were not his people’s way. Most of his people were not action takers; they chose to get others to deal with their problems or as a last resort forced their own people to do so and then ostracised them from society. Rada knew why neither could work and he’d never been willing to accept them as his choices no matter how many times they’d told him. That’s why he’d joined Starfleet; to try to learn the answer of how to take actions when needed without abandoning his people’s peaceful ways. He hadn’t changed so much as to have given up on that even now. The answer surely had to exist but obviously he’d never found it or else he’d never have killed. He had to consider now though that maybe they’d been right that he should never have tried pursuing it. That thought called for another try of the beer.

It tasted a little better the second time even though he’d drank similar beers several times before and that was a frightening enough thought to get him to put it down again. He finally closed the blinds then moved the Bible and the card from the bed which he then lay down upon above the sheets with his hands behind his head as he began to stare at the ceiling above. There was nothing to be found there but when you were looking for nothing that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Still, in spite of everything he had to think about, he found now that his thoughts were turning to a blank and so he slowly sighed before reaching over and picking up the breakfast card from the table beside him as a distraction. He held it up over himself cut off from the light above but still he could see what it said. None of the options were particularly appealing especially not when his stomach wanted something so much more substantial than breakfast but then he really didn’t have the energy anymore to go out tonight and so hunger was just something he’d have to accept.

Just like, he considered as he settled back on the bed again and finally closed his eyes to rest them if not to sleep, he’d have to learn to accept that this was now his life.


Lt. Commander Rada Dengar
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012