Home is Where You Are

Posted on Fri Jan 8th, 2021 @ 7:31pm by Lieutenant JG Tybek

ooc: Trying to get back into the Tybek mindset. I'm going to tie this into a short, solo JP but I felt like I needed to do this first. Changed the POV to 1st person because that feels right for a personal log, right?


My dreams are always haunted by violence. Sometimes I feel more when I'm dreaming. Rage, fear, elation, it's like my subconscious wants to experience my childhood as a Klingon. And these dreams have been getting more, abstract. First it was home - Mars. Schoolchildren goading me, teasing me, begging me to act out. Then it I saw Mars burn from far away, but in my dreams I'm always there. First at school, in orbit, but then I'm there on the surface, watching as the Starfleet force warped in just too late to save us.

So this time we were children, and they formed a perfect circle around me - me larger and stronger than all of them, maybe put together - pushing me between them. There was a song they were singing, but that's lost to me. All I remember is them pushing me and singing, begging me to fight back. Then after one push, one kid reared back and struck me, and as I reeled from the force of it the circle of cruel children broke, letting me fall to the ground.

When I got to my knees I was facing the window, looking down at Mars as the synth ships lay waste to everything they saw. Then the fire was born, and now all the children surrounded me, our hands and faces pushed up against transparisteel, watching our home burn and burst to shreds of shrapnel. For once I was one of them; just another kid losing everything he'd ever known.

I didn't much enjoy Khitomer - it sufficed as a vacation destination, but living there after Mars, well. I don't think it was the planet's problem. I was still not enough. The Terran kids teased me because Vulcan-Klingon is an often unheard mix of genetics. Klingon children are much crueler than Terrans - and they called me an affront to their kind. Not because I existed, but because I didn't act Klingon enough. My first time back on break from the Academy, I told my mother I didn't feel at home anywhere.

My mother responded that the concept of home was just romantic poeticism. She'd tell me that "home is just the realization of your ideal self. Home will always be where you are that realized self."

That makes sense to me, sort of. I thought about this a lot at Starfleet Academy. My home, I found, was the library, the labs, Professor Sylet's office, the baseball diamond. There, I could escape feeling trapped by my self. It didn't matter how Vulcan I acted versus how Klingon I felt. In science, in baseball and poetry there's a beauty in the unpredictable variables or the occurrence of the uncommon. I was another among them instead of the other near them.

It's not that I feel uncomfortable on the Firebird; it's the opposite of that, actually. I was at the Academy for 10 years and I only felt Home, or the Self, in a certain, few spots of campus and on Earth. So why am I having these dreams now? The subconscious is an infurating thing; I've felt as though I've been on the right path. And my dreams instead choose to torture me. Now I just feel the overwhelming urge to look into my Mars classmates I lost track of after the Academy - like I owe it to them.

Well, my shift begins in a little over an hour. Even if I wanted to go back to sleep I doubt I could. So I guess I'll have a raktajino and hope for a slow day.

Tybek out.