Adam Rularen sat at his desk in the quiet lobby of the Vulcan Embassy. The large glass room was dotted with chairs and couches that followed the crescent shaped curve of the building. In the center stood a large check-in counter. It was imposing, yet made with conservative materials and colors that made it very much in touch with Vulcan interior design. The beautiful brown and gray wood pieces fit together meaningfully. There were no flourishes, motifs, or any uniquely identifying features, besides the silver seal of the Vulcan ambassador in the center. It perfectly reflected the Vulcans' culture. One of logic, and uniformity. No need for opulence in the embassy of the "Enlightened", as there was none in the society which it represented. Despite its size, the stately counter was only ever manned by two employees: a receptionist, and a security officer.
Not wanting to draw attention from the Vulcan co-worker on his right, Adam subtly raised his left wrist and checked his watch. In faint green numbers it wrote 0300 hours. He took a silent deep breath. He still had four hours left before he was able to leave and return to his cozy, 45th floor apartment. With difficulty, he pushed out thoughts of the warm bed that awaited his return.
Despite the early hour and the extremely low number of visitors the embassy typically welcomed during this time, the Ambassador insisted on having both a receptionist and a security guard present at all times. This was an annoyance to Adam because his Vulcan counterparts at the reception end of the desk were always stanch rule-followers. They would not allow him to entertain himself, even during the slowest of nights. As a still relatively young human in his late twenties, this boredom often felt akin to torture.
"I should have taken that opening at the Andorian Embassy", Adam thought to himself as he stretched his long legs out under the desk. From what he had heard, it was an entertaining office, to say the least. There, alcohol was seen as a "part of the negotiation process", and a way to "free the mind". He knew this kept the guards in the embassy on their toes with the number of drunken officials and guests they had to deal with. Plus, the Andorian receptionists he had met were quite talkative, so surely he could have been kept entertained were he a member of their staff. However, if he was being honest with himself, those had been the exact reasons he had been hesitant to take the position in the first place. Yes, it could sometimes be boring with the Vulcans, but the peace and predictability offered here had been exactly what he was craving after leaving the chaos that was Starfleet.
Adam looked over at the receptionist that was accompanying him tonight. Androma was a young adult who had only recently arrived in San Francisco. Her mid-length hair was straightened and lying flat behind her pointed ears, its black color matching her formal robes underneath. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, and had her back vertical in a perfectly straight line. Her focus this evening had been entirely devoted to an old-style hardcover book. Those were rare to see these days as most species had totally transitioned to paperless versions, but Vulcans weren't "most species". The large volume was placed on a short stand to make reading with such an uptight posture more convenient.
She seemed to notice his glance, but continued reading when she asked, "Is there something you need, Officer Rularen?" "Oh, no" Adam responded slowly, "just wondering what you're studying tonight Androma". "I find it odd you don't recognize it" she responded in her typical monotone fashion, again maintaining her concentration on the page. "It is a volume of your culture's history after all". "I'm afraid I'm not well versed in many of the ancient classics" Adam replied, chuckling. "It is a history of Eleanor Roosevelt. She was an important character of Earth's 20th century." "Oh, well you should have said so!" Adam said with sudden enthusiasm, causing the Vulcan to raise her pointed eyebrow slightly. He continued excitedly, "I mean, I'm still not sure who that person is, but I'm quite familiar with some famous music artists of that time! Groups like AC DC, Linkin Park, Boston, Barenaked Ladies... Would you like to hear? I can play some right now!" He said, not waiting for a response before reaching for his PADD. He had only barely unlocked his device when Androma responded firmly, "Of course not Officer Rularen. May I remind you that we have important positions to maintain, and we can not afford to be distracted in case something should happen". "Additionally," she continued "I find it inappropriate that you would like to show me bare-naked ladies while in this environment". He chuckled at the misunderstanding and said, "So, are you saying that there's an environment where it would be appropriate?" The Vulcan woman finally turned to look at the young man and raised an unapproving eyebrow.
His excitement quickly fell off, and he softly retorted, "Yeah, yeah, you're right. But if you'd like, I'll send you some files after we get off." "I'm afraid I would not listen to them" She said, returning to her studies. "I am quite busy preparing for the entrance exam to the Vulcan Science Academy and illogical diversions of that kind would be detrimental to my success. Now, if you'll excuse me officer, I will be resuming my study of your history". "Yeah sure, no worries" Adam said, defeated. After a brief moment of silence, he breathed in deeply and said, "Well, I'm going to get up and make a few rounds. Let me know if you need me." Androma did not acknowledge his statement. She responded instead by slowly turning another page of the old book.
Eager now to leave the awkward situation, the tall officer put his hands flat on the desk and pushed up from his chair. He turned, and began to stroll through the hallway that led past the turbolifts and the security staffs' offices. He peeked inside the latter, and checked that all building systems were functioning nominally. With nothing appearing out of the ordinary, he continued down the hall to check in the lavatories.
As he walked, he chuckled to himself when thinking about this latest interaction with the young Vulcan in the lobby. Specifically, how ironic it was that he was denied an opportunity to listen to music because "he could not be distracted if something were to happen", yet she was able to bury her head in a book and have no consequences. The more time he spent around the Vulcans, the more quirks in their logic he was able to find. These irked him at times, but more often he simply found them endearing.
Reaching the end of the hall, he stood in front of one of the lavatories and waited for the automatic door to open and allow him inside. The room wasn't large, so he scanned it quickly. Before leaving, however, a short glance in the mirror revealed that he had a thick tuft of brown hair stuck up near the back of his head. "Oh man", he said quietly, talking to the hair, "how long have you been like that?" He bent down to the faucet's level and allowed some water to get on his hands. He then ferociously wiped his hands over the rebellious hairs until they had all been tamed.
In most modern bathrooms, he would not have had a water-dispensing sink that allowed him to correct this unruly strand. Almost all facilities now opt for a highly efficient "sonic sink". The Vulcans, however, were sensitive to the noise and supposed "smell" of those sinks, so they maintained the traditional Earth spigot and basin design instead. Adam had learned that there were many things Vulcans claimed to dislike because of their smell. He figured it was likely more of an excuse than anything, because there had been many times over the past few years when he had caught a whiff of a repugnant smell, and his Vulcan co-workers had been unaffected.
With water now dripping down his hands and into the cuffs of his uniform shirt, Adam turned ninety degrees to use the drying machine. Above it was something that caught him off guard: a Starfleet recruitment poster.
Starfleet was not usually known for advertising. They rarely had a need, as the military arm of the Federation typically had a steady influx of new recruits from all over the Alpha Quadrant. Something must be coming that is driving them to bring on more numbers. Adam shivered slightly at the thought.
The thin sheet of change paper that the poster was emanating from rotated through various stoic designs of ships and famous Starfleet officers, underlined by motivating phrases. Nostalgia caused him to stand there for a moment, glued to the paper-like screen as his hands were dried and sanitized by the machine in the wall.
Eventually, Rularen came back to himself, and was about to leave the bathroom before a very familiar ship flashed onto the poster. There before him was a ship he never thought he would see again. It was the first ship he had been assigned to after graduating from the academy. The place he had called home during his journeys around the Quadrant. The "Wolf of the Stars" herself, the USS Ōkami.
The image of the beautiful New Orleans-class ship brought back a wave of fond memories for the tired man. He thought of the friends he had made while serving on the lower decks of that great exploratory cruiser. The exciting missions, both on and off the ship, that he had participated in. And finally, the day of his unexpected promotion to Lieutenant, and the accompanying assignment to a station on the bridge. The news of such a young officer gaining that position caused a multi-hour celebration to follow the promotion ceremony. The party brought with it dancing, drinking of smuggled Romulan Ale and his first kiss among the stars. He blushed a little as he thought of that last part. These experiences were all he had ever wanted, and he reflected on them fondly for a moment.
A brief, but burning desire suddenly rose in his chest. A desire he had not felt since adolescence. A desire to join Starfleet again. Underneath his ship on the screen was the Latin phrase "Audentis Fortuna Iuvat", which famously translates to "Fortune favors the bold". This was the very phrase that had inspired him to enlist those many years ago, and what drove him everyday as an officer. Unexpectedly, he now felt shame at how he had estranged himself from that ideal. "I have not been very bold as of late" He thought to himself. A solemn realization washed upon him at that moment. "My younger self would not even recognize the man I am now" he sighed.
This change in feeling brought a transition in the young man's thoughts as well. Just as quickly as the happy memories had popped into his mind, they faded out and were replaced instead by the horrible. He physically cringed as he remembered why he had left his dream behind. The memories replayed through his mind in more detail than even the most luxurious of holodecks could hope to achieve. Images of immense destruction, murdered friends, and debilitating secrets harrowed his conscience.
He frantically opened his eyes in an attempt to displace the memories, looking back towards the poster to see if he could distract himself with anything new that had come onto the screen. Instead, he got one more glimpse of the Ōkami, which involuntarily recalled his most dreaded memory of all: the view out of an escape pod's window as the ship was blown apart.
Her entire crew complement of five hundred had still been on board.
The vividness of this nightmare caused him to crumple to his knees in the small lavatory. There, he shed a few tears for the ones he loved who never got a chance to escape, and never even knew why they died. He weeped too for their families that will never know the true reasons for their deaths. He also sobbed for himself. For the pain that he had endured, and the burden of the secret he carried. No one could ever know of his pain, and even if they could, they could never understand it.
After taking a moment to collect himself, Adam stood tall once again and wiped the salty residue off of his face. Resolution returned to his mind. He had made the right choice when he chose to walk away. If Starfleet could allow the men who did this to remain in their ranks, then he wanted no part of it. They didn't deserve his labor. They didn't deserve his talent. And they most certainly didn't deserve his sacrifice.
Sure, the embassy could be boring and unchallenging at times, but here he at least felt secure in the logic that guided these people. The Vulcans would have made a more logical ruling in regards to the Ōkami's destruction had they been in charge, that much was for sure.
Adam walked resolutely out of the lavatory's automatic door and began to resume his foot patrol of the embassy. His inner dialogue had reaffirmed his choices. Yet, something inside still gnawed at him, disturbing the internal resolution he had come to. Even if he didn't want to admit it, he knew he was worth more to the galaxy than a simple Vulcan embassy Security Officer.
He would just have to find his own path.
A haptic vibrated across Adam's communication pin, signaling that Androma required his assistance in the lobby. Likely, it was just a low level ambassador needing an escort to their office for some after-hours work. Still, he walked purposefully to the front, clearing his mind of all the chaotic thoughts that had racked his brain just moments prior.
His existential crisis would have to wait until another day.