USF Personal Log
Outpost Phoenix: Personal Com-Net image
Spring Training: Part I

Outpost Phoenix: Personal Com-Net

by Fleet Captain Kaveh Arzie
[Stardate ]


The orange and purple bobber drifted lazily across the clear, glassy surface of Lake Erielhonan as its owner sat back against the smooth trunk of an ehkhin tree. Fleet Captain Kaveh Arzie was perfectly relaxed on the shore as he waited for a nibble. He spent as much of his off-duty hours outside as he could. Although the survey team from the L’sek had been on planet for six Terran months when they performed their survey six years ago, hardly any of the native species had been identified, named, cataloged, or studied.    

Not so wherever Arzie went. If he saw something that wasn’t already in the database, BAM! It had a name by the end of the day. The ehkhin tree, for example. There weren’t any around the Outpost, and in his travels while seeking for suitable homestead, he found the first samples. /Ehkhin Arzium/, he called them, using the Kriosian naming system he had been taught by his Maestro, and which he was now teaching to Ishae.

Heh. t’Lheollah. He chuckled to himself. As it turned out, she wasn’t actually an Ensign. She was bluffing her way across the Quadrant. She was a refugee, that was true. She was not, however, a Starfleet engineering. It was a clever ruse, though. Not many people would’ve paid her any nevermind, except she had felt rather full of gumption that night four months ago and had a fateful encounter with the base CO.

He wouldn’t snitch on her, of course. She took him up on his offer of studying under him. Even now he could hear her attempts at playing the kaulasokhi. It had been getting better. Truthfully. She threw herself into her studies with such great vigour that Kaveh was more than impressed.    

Ishae resisted at first. What did music have to do with this apprenticeship she was supposed to be undertaking, she protested. Arzie had been apprenticed himself when he was still too young to question why he had to be immersed in the Fine Arts. He hadn’t questioned it, but he had still remembered the reasons.

‘Music appeals to the ear and the mind, the emotions and the intellect, the senses and the spirit.’ He Arzie would respond, his Maestro’s voice being channeled through him. ‘Likewise with Visual Arts. A complete education must include the development of the creative nature and must provide the apprentice with the tools and the technique with which to express their ideas, their feelings, and their love.    A good artist is a complete thinker and vice versa.’

Arzie hadn’t even noticed that the music had ceased before he had drifted off.
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