From: Kenneth Field (envision_at_fidalgo.net)
Date: Sat May 12 2007 - 00:14:47 PDT
"Peldor Joi"
(continues from Jerome's "Judgement Day")
Location: GS-2
Stardate: 2.70511.2332
Scene: Counseling Center/Gene's Office
Time Index: Prior to the Gratitude Festival
The door chimed, and when Gene called "Come!" it slid aside and aCNS Nurunyon bounded in. Gene had known Mowree for nearly a year now, but he'd never quite gotten used to the Caitian's way of moving about. More leonine than cat-like, Mowree had an abundance of energy, but it was short-lived at best. He was the sort to do a day's work in a few hours, then nap the remainder of the day. He couldn't help it. It was just the normal functioning of felinoid biology. Obviously, the Caitian was in the upward swing of his energy level at the moment.
"Are you going to the festival?" Mowree asked without preamble.
He was not one to waste time with small talk usually, so this at least was in character.
"You mean the Gratitude Festival?" Gene asked, laying his stylus aside from the notes he'd been making on a recent session with a crewman from engineering.
"Yes, yes! The Gratitude Festival. Are you going?" the Caitian asked again. "I mean it is the highlight of the Bajoran annual cycle, correct?"
"If you are an orthodox Bajoran," Gene replied, "it is the main celebration of the Bajoran year."
"Orthodox Bajoran?" Mowree frowned. His whiskers dipped and his ears folded flat back against his mane in concentration. He was careful not to smile. It showed off his teeth, and in some cultures that was the sign of a predator. He didn't want to frighten anyone. "I thought you were either Bajoran, or you weren't."
"Well, I'm Bajoran by heritage, certainly," Gene smiled, gesturing for Mowree to take a seat, but the lieutenant was too wound up it appeared. "But I also have a considerable Terran heritage as well. Should I practice all the religious celebrations of TERRA as well?"
"I suppose not," Mowree snuffled. "But are you going?"
Gene realized his colleague was not going to let the question go unaswered.
"Yes, my family will attend the Festival. And we will burn batteret leaves in our quarters, and I will write all my troubles on a renewal scroll and burn it to ashes. Xana, however, will not."
"Why is that?"
"She's not Bajoran. She's Bolian, and they have a rather unique batch of gods all their own. She doesn't consider the Prophets to be her deities."
"And you do? Forgive me for asking, Commander, but I am curious about this matter of religions."
"Yes, I imagine you would be. Caitians really don't have a religion, do they?" Gene asked.
"We have a heritage, certainly, but there are no deities we ascribe to," Mowree conceded. "Still, the concept is fascinating, and I've always meant to ask more. Do you consider yourself an orthodox Bajoran?"
"Not really, no," Gene admitted. "I value my heritage. I wear my earring in public most of the time, and especially at formal occasions, but I also wear my kilt, in honor of my Scottish grandfather, so I'm somewhat eclectic, you could say."
"Do you pray to the Prophets, then?" Mowree continued on.
"Um, look, Mowree, this is not an area of my life that I usually discuss. My beliefs are a private matter, and I'd really rather not discuss them, if you don't mind."
He'd stated it politely, but he meant it. This was not something he felt comfortable discussing. It was just an intellectual curiousity for the Caitian. For Gene it was a vital part of his existence as a Bajoran. He'd actually encountered the Prophets on at least one occasion, possibly two. They existed. Whether or not they were gods or just wormhole aliens as most of the Federation believed was something he hadn't worked out in his own mind yet. He certainly wasn't going to bandy it about with a subordinate.
"Oh, certainly, Commander. Forgive me for prying. I was just wondering if I might see the service in the new Temple."
"I'm sure that you would be permitted to attend the service in the Temple provided you simply observed. If you're interested in the religion of BAJOR, you'll need to talk to one of the prylars. I can't really help you with anything beyond a layman's perspective. Any more than I could explain Terran Christmas, since I do not practice Christianity either, though I am somewhat familiar with it."
"Thank you, Commander."
"Peldor Joi, Mowree."
"Pardon?"
"That's the formal greeting for the Gratitude Festival."
"Oh, yes, thank you again."
And he was gone. It was a little like conversing with a windstorm. It tired Gene just thinking about it, but he decided after a quick glance at the chronometer, that he might as well button things up here and head over to pick Xana up at the embassy. They were going to the service at the Temple. In fact, it would be Dahlia's first Gratitude Festival.
He took out a small scroll wrapped tightly with a bit of twine. There was just one problem written there, and it had to do with Xana and Tomas'. He'd done some thinking about Tomas' disappearance into the Delta Quadrant, and he thought he knew at least one man who might help him acquire information on the BORG's whereabouts. Commander Sharpa of SB59, the USS SUTTNER's former base of operations, might just have an idea of where to start looking. And he hadn't talked to his old CO in months and months, not since the death of the EIDOLON. He slipped the scroll into his pocket, secured his station and left for the day.
-------------------- =/\=
NRPG: Yep, I know. Not one bit of help to advance the plot. I meant to do this several days ago, but thought I'd better get this in before we go to warp. I suspect that Gene will get involved in the whole "politically correct" thing for the Wormhole, especially with the discovery of a new orb. And he and Xana will probably argue about it, since she's worried that it might turn into something political, not spiritual. And she's probably right. LOL.
-------------------- =/\=
Kenneth Field
envision_at_fidalgo.net
aka Commander Gene McInnis
CNS/GS-2
aka Lt. JG Mowree Nurunyon
aCNS/GS-2
aka Tomas' Alexei Vukovic
Former Chief of Staff to Ambassador Xana Bonviva
currently with the BORG
aka Maury R. Tee
Professor of English (Retired)
Proprietor of "Impulse Drives,"
a little shop of horrors
GS-2, Promenade
"To gently lie and prove the lie true ... everything is finally a promise ... what
seems a lie is ramshackle need, wishing to be born." -- Ray Bradbury
From HyperNews_at_youth.net
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.1.5 : Sun Feb 17 2008 - 03:10:16 PST