Early Riser

Posted on Sat Jul 19th, 2025 @ 5:22pm by Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Sub-Lieutenant Osirin Acainus
Edited on on Thu Sep 4th, 2025 @ 8:49pm

2,431 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Athletic Facilities, Deck 11
Timeline: MD006, 0530 Hours

Osirin understood the Terran's interest in exercise. His experience with other races was rather limited, but it seemed rather universal. Not everyone, of course, he'd met a few folk who didn't believe in it, or at least they didn't practice what they preached, but the concept was universal. It was true of his people as well.

Swimming, though, was new to him, or it had been before the Federation visited his world those years ago. He'd taken a few lessons back then, and he'd learned how. It still wasn't his favorite activity, but he enjoyed it. Now, the Expanse playing havoc with his mind, threatening to tear down the walls, the shielding he'd created. He needed an outlet, a place to go. Swimming seemed like the logical solution to his situation.

So, that morning is where he found himself. He wasn't alone, though.

The pool water closed over Jean-Baptiste's face in a steady and measured tempo. Each stroke sent him slicing through the blue calm of Deck 11's four-lane pool. It was zero five-hundred hours, and the ship was still dozing in the tranquility of early morning. But the Astrea was a beast just beginning to stir.

He'd never swum on a starship before. The confined tract of water felt both oddly intimate and vast at once. His arms moved slowly and deliberately, matching the pace of his swirling thoughts. The San Francisco Bay, it certainly was not.

The assignment ahead--shipboard life, tactical work, the concerns of loyalty and risk--it seemed to weigh heavy in his chest like a stone. Yet, as always, he kept those anxieties folded away, neat and distant, as though they were in a book closed on a shelf that needn't be read.

So he pushed forward, stroke after stroke, tracing a path through the quiet water. One lap and then another. One moment at a time.

Reaching one end of the lane, he paused and found himself treading. Someone else had made their way into the pool area of the athletic facilities.

Solitude had been his original intent, a strange goal for an Akadian since they were a social people. He'd wanted a chance to relax. But it had been an unrealistic expectation. His shield went back up to full capacity. He smiled in the other's direction with a nod of his head. Then dove into the water. It didn't look professional, it barely looked adequate, but it accomplished the purpose, and he began to swim.

Jean-Baptiste lingered for a moment at the pool's edge, steadying his left hand against the wall. The ripples Osirin left behind seemed to spread in gentle circles, eventually overlapping with the JB's own wake. He watched the Akadian move down the lane--awkward at first glance, but honest in its intent.

He tipped forward and pushed off again, gliding down his own lane. This time his strokes grew a little easier, as if the small shared company had diluted the knots in his head. Every time his face broke the surface, he caught a glimpse of Osirin's arms cutting through the water, erratic but persistent.

Halfway back, JB surfaced, coasting to a standstill near the midline divider. He flipped onto his back, letting himself drift for a moment. Above him, the overhead lights glowed in pale ribbons, flickering softly with the gentle slosh of the pool.

He turned his head slightly, calling out across the water, voice pitched low enough not to echo too sharply.

"Good form," he said to Osirin. "You make it look easy."

Jean Baptiste could hear Osirin snort across the pool, then a snicker. As the Akadian reached the end of the pool on his first lap he paused before calling out, "You make a lousy liar. I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing." He was tempted to take the conversation in a direction that would be normal for his people. But stopped himself. This wasn't his homeworld, and besides, there was Kash to think about.

So, instead, he said, "In my defense, there's not much water on my planet."

JB let out a quiet laugh that bounced across the water. He shifted onto his stomach again, his palms gliding wide against the surface.

"Fair enough," he called back. "I suppose we're even then--I can't lie, and you can't swim!"

He slowly made his way to the opposite end of the lane where his new pool friend remained.

Osirin laughed. "I believe the appropriate Terran term is Touche. My name is Osirin by the way. Osirin Acainus. And you?"

JB came upright after a final stroke, water sliding down his dark shoulders in thin sheets. He reached up, tugging his goggles onto his forehead, revealing dark eyes bright with quiet amusement. He extended a hand across the lane divider along with an earnest smile. "Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil," he said simply. "But mostly everyone calls me JB."

Osirin's eyes watched the man as he removed his goggles; he couldn't help noticing, in spite of himself, the water sliding down the other man's chest, his expressive eyes, and the fact that he was easy on the eyes.

He shook his head slightly as he took the other's hand. "Nice to meet you, you must be one of the new officers. What's your position? If that's not too personal."

JB let out a small, knowing chuckle, his fingers still clasped around Osirin's hand. He tilted his head, water dripping from his hair like tiny beads of glass. If he felt uncomfortable with the Akadian's directness, he didn't show it. After all, his studies in comparative religion and philosophy extended to several alien cultures--some more open and candid, others far less so.

"Personal would be asking me if I'm a side-sleeper," he shot back, tone light but containing a soft center of warmth. He released the handshake and steadied himself against the wall that marked the end of the lane.

"Assistant Chief Tactical Officer," he said, responding to Osirin's earlier question. "And you? What's your post?"

Even if he had not been Akadian, Osirin would have noticed the tactical officer's lingering grasp. It probably meant nothing, but he couldn't be sure. While the Expanse was creating some issues with his mental state, he was able, barely, to keep his focus on the ongoing conversation and not let his mind wander to things he knew he shouldn't be thinking. Mostly.

Nevertheless, he did hesitate before replying. "I'm actually not Starfleet," he replied his feral green eyes focused on the other's face. I am an exchange officer. I believe they've given me the title of Mission Advisor."

JB's eyebrows ticked up, curiosity passing across his features. He adjusted his hold on the lane wall, one forearm braced loosely.

"Mission advisor," he echoed. "Sounds like you get to keep a foot on both sides of the river." He paused a moment, trying to recall his knowledge of Akadia. He added, "I heard something a few weeks ago. There's talk... that some of the minor families are considering throwing their weight behind the anti-Federation bloc in the Ruling Council. Any truth to it?"

Osirn paused again, his gaze fixed on the Federation officer, for a good five seconds before responding, any hint of flirtation in his voice slipping away. "They needed to find a role for me, and I suppose that was the best fit for everyone, " he answered at last, his tone, at least on the surface, unassuming. "It plays to my strengths. I'm more intuitive than analytical, but I have my moments."

"I haven't heard of the idiom you said, but I think it's appropriate in my case."

"As far as your question is concerned, there is an Akadian proverb that might fit: 'Rumors have a way of proving themselves to be true, even if they start as tall tales' "

"I can't know for sure, but if I were a betting man, I'd throw a few credits toward that bet."

"Are you sure you're tactical and not Intel?"

JB's grin went a little wider at Osirin's last remark. He tapped his finger lightly against the lane divider, then, with a small push, he heaved himself up onto the edge of the pool. Water sheeted off him in slender rivulets, tracing the lines of his shoulders and ribs before pattering onto the deck in small, deliberate drops.

He rose to his full height, rolling his shoulders once before bending to scoop up a thin black towel. His Speedo clung to him like a second skin, accentuating the lean definition he carried more through discipline than vanity. He pressed the towel into his hair first, ruffling it once, before dragging it down across his chest and along each arm in slow, deliberate sweeps.

"Intel, huh?" he echoed, a soft laugh under his breath. "I suppose I can't blame you for the guess." He paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Osirin.

"I was Starfleet Intelligence for a while. Analysis mostly--sometimes field assignments." He tilted his head to the side and, using a corner of the towel, attempted to coax out some water from his ear canal. He continued, "Never served on a starship before." He paused again, folding the towel over his forearm.

"This," he continued, gesturing vaguely around them, "is all new territory for me. The duty rosters, the rotating watches, the social currents that run along every bulkhead..." He lifted a shoulder in a mild shrug. "I'm still learning how to read it all without stepping on any toes."

Osirin's intentions in coming to the pool had been pure, or if not pure, they'd been innocent. He'd resolved to change his ways. Not to embrace everything Terran, or become human. That's not who he was or who he wanted to be. But he did want to temper some of his Akadian ways. He didn't know what was happening between him and Kash now, or what might happen, but he knew it could be something real. Long term? Permanent? He just didn't know.

But he'd found himself drifting back into old patterns. He'd been relieved when JB had started talking shop he'd been relieved. Then he'd climbed out of the water. The Akadian hadn't ogled, not really, but he had watched, his eyes lingering a beat, maybe two beats longer than they should have. His mind hadn't wandered far in the wrong direction, but it did wander.

"So, what brings you to Astera?" he asked, hoping the other man hadn't noticed the eyes that had lingered on his lithe figure.

At the question, JB's fingers stilled on the towel, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second to the deck between them. The easy warmth in his expression faltered, just for a moment, as if a door inside him had squeaked open to shine light on something dark and unsorted.

He looked up again, a half-smile returning to his face--it was a careful mask he'd practiced long before the Academy, back when the truth had been a currency he couldn't afford to spend.

"Course correction," he said finally. "Intel was... fine, until it wasn't. Astrea offered a new start." He omitted the details about a certain Starfleet admiral who had used his influence to ensure JB had few choices if he remained in uniform. "There's another reason. But that's a conversation for another time."

He draped the towel firmly around his neck and met Osirin's gaze. "But enough about me," he said, shifting the current of the moment. "You've been on this exchange program for a while now?"

Osirin's left brow rose and fell at JB's omission and comment about a later conversation. But he didn't press. Nor did he probe mentally. He just stored the thought away.

"A few months now," he replied. "It's been a growing experience. There are a lot of differences between our cultures. Adjusting has been a journey. One, I'm still on. If I'm being honest, though, I think that your, the Federation's officers are having a tougher time."

JB's eyes narrowed, a tiny, thoughtful crease forming between his brows. "Why do you think that is?" he asked, his voice lower and more personable. "Is it the empathic piece? Or that famous Akadian approach--living every moment, chasing every sensation before it evaporates?"

The phantom of a smile spread across his face, though it didn't quite linger.

Before Osirin could answer, he added, "Most folks from the Alpha and Beta Quadrants... they're taught to put walls around their feelings. Keep them packed away like old uniforms. Maybe they don't quite know what to do when someone else refuses to wear armour at all."

That brought another pause, but this time a reflective one. "I think that is amazingly perceptive and spot on. We don't wear armor or masks, and that scares people. On an Akadian ship, someone like you. Someone who is good-looking and with a warm personality like you seem to have... Well, they would attract attention and comments. Possibly more."

"Not everyone is suited for dealing with it. You, I think you could handle it. "

He faltered before continuing, "My shielding that element that keeps me anchored, that keeps me centered, sane, whatever term you want to think is faltering. I'm not trying to read your thoughts, sense your emotions. That's just wrong in any culture. And I'm not, but there are cracks, like I said and I sense you have an inner strength. One you may not fully realize. With it, you'd be able to handle being on an Akadian ship. You are able to handle a lot of things."

"Thank you," he replied with an honest smile on his lips. "That's kind of you to say."

JB considered for a moment exactly how he'd hate having his thoughts and emotions read by others--as was demonstrated in his Intelligence training. Then again, he couldn't imagine having that ability switched-on and being forced to temper it completely. Perhaps, he thought, it would be akin to being forced to not experience taste or smell.

He took a step backward, pausing with a half-turn, then looked over his shoulder.

"You planning to swim laps tomorrow?"

"Depends," Osirin answered, stretching his arms above his head. "Are you going to be here?"

JB smiled. "Of course, my friend."

---

Lieutenant J.G. Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea


Sub-Lieutenant Osirin Acainus
Mission Advisor
USS Astrea

 

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