The Jester Pt 1 of ?
Posted on 31 Jul 2025 @ 4:28am by Lieutenant Aev Flammia
1,119 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Assignment: Arawyn
Location: Shuttle Obolus
= Shuttle Obolus =
Focus on your breathing.
Aev let the darkness behind his closed eyes wash over him, drawing his mind toward stillness. He could feel each breath, slow, steady, deliberate. Inhale deep and purposeful, exhale slow and releasing tension.
Meditation had never come easily to him, despite his grandfather’s patient attempts to teach it. He could still remember nights spent on Vulcan, seated beneath the stars, struggling to quiet the restless currents of his thoughts. His mother, on the other hand, always doubted he’d take to Vulcan practices at all. Instead, she guided him toward more human disciplines like Tai Chi and Yoga. They were grounding arts that he enjoyed well enough. Yet, there was something about Vulcan meditation and its challenge to master that pulled at him. It felt like a puzzle he had to solve no matter how elusive it seemed.
“Your Vulcan meditation face is unsettling. Blink twice if you’re plotting murder.” A playful voice suddenly interrupted the emptiness.
“Ignis.” Aev’s brows drew together sharply. “I said you could stay out as long as you were quiet. This” he paused, letting the weight of his words settle “is not quiet.”
From the front, Ignis lounged casually in the pilot’s chair, one hand resting lazily on the controls he didn’t actually need to touch. His tall, lean frame was draped sideways across the seat in a way no regulation pilot ever would, molten gold eyes glowing faintly in the dim cabin light. His flame-shaped tattoos pulsed brighter as his lips curled into a smirk.
He swiveled halfway toward the rear hold, elbow propped on the chair’s armrest, head tilted just so, tousled hair catching the soft illumination from the console. His elvish ears flicked slightly forward, honing in on the steady rhythm of Aev’s breathing.
“Quiet? Spark, that was silence so heavy it practically begged for rescue. I’m just making sure you don’t accidentally achieve enlightenment and drift out the airlock.” Ignis stretched out languidly, one long leg hooked over the side of the chair, flame markings flickering with a lazy warmth.
With an exasperated wince, Aev opened his eyes, the cabin’s light spilling in and shattering the calm of the darkness. He rose slowly, dragging the yoga mat up with him. After rolling the foam tightly, he shoved it into one of his bags and let out a long, weary sigh.
His gaze shifted toward the cockpit, fixing Ignis with the stern look of a thoroughly annoyed parent. Extending his hand toward the ceiling lights, he twisted his fingers in the slow deliberate motion of someone admiring a ring they’d just been given.
Ignis tilted his head, the subtle flick of his distinctly elvish ears betraying his curiosity. His smirk faltered, a look of confusion stitched across his features as he leaned forward slightly in the chair.
Aev frowned back at him. “I’m just trying to decide,” he said dryly, holding out his ring finger where the onyx band shimmered faintly, “whether or not to toss this thing into space.”
Ignis blinked, his flame tattoos flaring brighter in mock offense. “Spark!” His voice rang through the cabin, laced with theatrical betrayal. “After everything we’ve been through, you’d really pitch me into the abyss like space junk? Cold. Even for you.”
He spun the pilot’s chair around in a smooth, lazy arc, now facing Aev directly. One arm draped carelessly over the chair’s side, his posture infuriatingly casual. That sly smirk returned, sharp and amused, as molten eyes fixed on Aev with playful intensity.
“Besides,” Ignis continued, leaning forward as though sharing a secret, “if you did toss me out the airlock, I’d just re-project inside the cockpit before the ring left your hand. Dramatic gesture wasted, Spark.”
Aev dropped his arm with a groan. “You’re lucky this thing cost me nearly a year’s worth of credits and a two-year advance on birthday money from my parents.” He jabbed a finger at Ignis. “But don’t think for a second I wouldn’t reprogram you if you keep this up.”
Sliding his bag off the shuttle’s narrow bed, he collapsed onto the rumpled sheets. He’d hoped for a quiet trip to Starbase 369. It could’ve been quiet if he’d just left the holoband off. But he knew the price for that: hours of relentless commentary from Ignis once he reactivated him. With a sigh, he glanced toward the cockpit, only to find those bright golden eyes fixed on him.
There was a time when that ring had thrilled him. The Lumeon Holoband: cutting-edge wearable tech with an adaptive AI assistant that could project itself within fifty feet via a built-in nano-emitter. It had sounded perfect. He’d even known its creator, Dave Ronaldson, who’d served as Chief Engineer aboard his father’s ship. As a kid, Aev had spent countless hours in Dave’s workshop, marveling at his tools and inventions. So, when Dave mentioned the holoband, Aev knew he had to have one.
After a year of saving and covering the cost of materials for Dave, he was finally surprised with one of only six prototypes. In his excitement, Aev had asked him to model the AI’s personality after the jester from his favorite childhood holonovel. Big mistake. What had been funny in small doses as a kid was downright unbearable as a full-time personal assistant.
Ignis’s flame-markings cast faint, ember-like glows along his sharp cheekbones, the dim cabin light catching the reddish undertones in his windswept hair. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, that feline smirk never wavering.
“You know,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, “for someone who swore he wanted peace and quiet, you’re remarkably bad at it. Meditation, bedrolls on steel floors, and now sulking on that glorified cot? Spark, it’s almost impressive how committed you are to suffering.”
He gestured loosely toward Aev’s discarded yoga mat, molten-gold eyes narrowing with feigned seriousness. “Maybe I should start a log,” Ignis mused. “Day five: Spark attempts serenity again. Results inconclusive. Diagnosis? Chronic inability to unwind without supervision.”
He leaned back once more, shoulders sinking into the chair, tattoos dimming to a lazy flicker. His gaze stayed fixed on Aev, warm and unblinking, and the teasing edge in his voice softened just enough to be noticeable. “Starbase 369’s still two days out,” he continued. “That’s forty-eight hours of nothing but deep space, impulse hum, and me.” The smirk tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. “Face it, Spark. You’re trapped. Might as well enjoy the company.”
= To be continued =
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