Games of Chance

Posted on Tue Sep 18th, 2012 @ 1:39am by Lieutenant Cedric Shepherd & Crewman Sessan Birsi
Edited on on Thu Sep 20th, 2012 @ 11:34am

1,225 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Sowing the Seeds
Location: USS Ranger: Deck 5, Holodeck 2
Timeline: Mission Day 2, 1900 hrs
Tags: Erne Sisqua, Sessan Birsi, Springball, Holodeck

In the initial weeks of Birsi's first year at the Technical Services Academy, entertainment fell into three categories: books, socializing, or sports, the latter of which were accommodated by cells lent just enough holographic functionality to simulate the necessary venue. Springball courts were one of the more requested thanks to exposure fueled by Bajor's relatively recent inclusion into the Federation, and while Sessan Birsi dabbled in the sport later than most Bajorans, her deep-seated yearning to reconnect to her people along with the experience and athleticism gained from playing field handball throughout her childhood helped her quickly develop savvy she thought would hold up in a game against Erne Sisqua, her roommate and burgeoning friend. While she indeed managed to make a good account of herself, Birsi ultimately proved unable to go the distance in the past two matches. . .

And she was trying not to add another.

Darting about in hopes of advancing a 2-4 score that favored Sisqua, she managed to pull off a relative rarity given the game's emphasis on minimizing an opponent's touches. A shrill buzzer and successive double chime met her swift, strong swipe from the back left corner in short order, and a third cyan bar illuminated on the left score indicator.

3-4.

"Dah!" exclaimed Sisqua, frustrated, but not angry. "I keep forgetting you're left-handed! I'm all trying to check-block over here," she wagged her racket at a section of the court, "and you keep getting the reverse."

"Keep?" her younger opponent chortled. "That's kind of you."

"You're about to fall into my trap," Sisqua teased, lifting her helmet to wipe sweat from her face with a sleeve. "I build up your confidence and then destroy you."

Birsi in turn drifted to Sisqua and playfully nudged her. "Hey! I'm actually giving you a hard time for giving me too much credit. I may be getting points here and there on being a lefty, but it's a weak consolation to looking three straight losses in the face. So leave my confidence be. It's an endangered enough species without your mind games."

Sisqua bounced the ball and caught it, testing the action. "Endangered? Somebody pickin' on my friend?" she asked nonchalantly as she lined up a serve.

"Other than you?" Another prod just preceded Birsi's reply. "A thought brought on by our last mission, namely when I felt better off giving my opinions to an open airlock." The blonde's ready stance softened, and her eyes locked steadfastly onto her friend rather than the ball. "What do you think about me becoming an officer?"

Sisqua completely whiffed the serve, startled by the question, and looked askance at Birsi. "What?"

Birsi's shoulders fell, albeit more in the jesting spirit of her successive quip. She let it fly in the midst of tilting her head and planting her hands on her hips. "You're not old enough to be one of those jaded head cases that resents anyone who isn't an enlistee, Sisqua."

"Oh, I," Sisqua shrugged, prevaricating a bit. "Nah, I don't resent anybody. Just a surprise. I mean, I tested when I applied to the academy, but I didn't make it into an officer track. But you're more together than me--why *didn't* you get on the officer track right off?"

"I could've tried," Birsi acquiesced. "It isn't harder so much as the additional year or two commissioned officers spend in school dabbles more in abstract concepts like leadership and analyzing people. Or at least that's what my mom says. Not sure how much stock I should put into that as far as what I should expect, though. She's way smarter than I am."

Their prolonged resumption of play encouraged Birsi to tug off her helmet. "Anyway, I passed for several reasons. One of the biggest was that even if I got in, I didn't want to be one of those cadets held to the kind of standards set by an overachieving parent that served with like. . .half the faculty. I think being adopted made some of my parents' colleagues think I needed more outreach in order to feel more. . .'rooted.'" She squinted. "Hated it. And the last thing I wanted or needed was for another to come out of the woodwork to play instructor, friend, and surrogate parent for four years."

"But now," Sisqua added, visibly working it out in her head, "those people wouldn't be around."

A sigh billowed from Birsi's upturned nose. "There you go, making me sound smarter than I am again." Her corresponding gaze harbored a hint of mock disapproval. "But you're right. There's been a refreshing shortage of people who've greeted me with, 'wow, you're Kirsten Meuwissen's kid?!"

Sisqua laughed, a reaction at odds with the words immediately following. "Nobody ever asked me anything like that. My mom was a drug addict who couldn't keep a job."

The revelation initially blindsided Birsi because of its stark contrast to her own. Sisqua was rougher-hewn than she, and while Birsi had come to learn she didn't usually mean any harm by it, she also reasoned that absentee parents certainly could've played a role. But there was some commonality as well. Birsi's birth parents were absent for much of her life, though she was old enough to remember that it wasn't a willful choice. Nonetheless, it left a void she thought she perceived in her friend's voice. Despite having no way to anticipate her conversation unearthing such a sensitive matter, Birsi winced and reached for Sisqua consolingly.

"I'm sorry. . ." Unsavory an opinion as it forged about Sisqua's mother, Birsi made a last-second decision to withhold any implication of it. Good or otherwise, relationships with parents were often fraught with feelings not solely defined by their misdeeds. Not to mention that Sisqua was born in late-occupational Bajor, where any number of things could've broken her mother's spirit.

"It's not a big thing," Sisqua shrugged and waved off Birsi's concern. "I made my peace with it a long time ago. But we're not talking about me. We're talking about Ensign Sessan Birsi. How does that work, when right now you're, y'know, *Crewman* Sessan Birsi?"

"Well, I'd have no choice but to take the Academy entrance exam if Ranger didn't have a training division. But since we do, I can request enrollment in the Officer Candidate Program. If I'm approved, I can take the third year curriculum remotely, and with CO approval, I could write off some, if not all of fourth year with the time I've already put into service."

"So you could ask Barim in the training division? That's great! I won't have to break in another roommate," Sisqua joked. "I'd offer to help you, but I barely got through the PO3 exam. The whole Officer hasperat's not my bag."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll have your uses," Birsi coolly acknowledged, fluttering her racqueted hand dismissively. At the point in which anyone else might've thought her serious, she flashed a smile. "Seriously, though. . .just having you around does a lot of good for me."

Sisqua grinned. "So you won't hold it against me that I'm about to beat you right now, then." She dribbled the ball with her racquet a time or two in preparation for a serve.

"Nah," Birsi replied, slipping her helmet back on. "I guess a little sportsmanship isn't too much to ask for a free 2-0 run."

 

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