Confession

Posted on Fri Jun 20th, 2025 @ 3:25pm by Commander Kevin Lance

1,492 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: The days of our lives
Location: Japan, Earth
Timeline: During a Night to Remember

on:
{Nippon Information and Culture Center, Kyoto}

Kevin sat uncomfortably still, his knees folded awkwardly beneath him on the tatami mat. The yukata he wore—loaned to him from the cultural center’s collection—itched faintly at the collar, and he kept glancing toward the kettle as though it might signal what to do next. Around him, the Wa-no-Ma was quiet, reverent, bathed in soft light filtered through rice paper panels. The aroma of tatami straw, steam, and powdered green tea mingled in the air.

Shen’s whirlwind adventure across Europe, Australia, North America and now Asia had Kevin’s body wondering what time zone he was in. His muscles ached both from the various feats of athletic prowess the two had engaged in and the aggressive massage he had just received after bathing in the onsen. His mouth tasted stale after too many drinks and cigars. And although he had been able to restrain himself, Kevin was certain that Shen had diddled at least one of the Orion dancers at the secluded club in a place named Las Vegas.

He was in no condition to get married, that much was clear.

A pretty Japanese girl knelt across from him, serene and graceful, guiding him with the subtlety of a practiced host. She poured the hot green liquid into a beautifully decorated ceramic bowl and spoke politely to him in Japanese. Lacking his comm badge, which had been confiscated at the gates of the cultural center, Kevin had absolutely no idea what she was saying to him.

Shen, also dressed in a loose fitting yukata, sat next to Kevin “She wants you to bow before receiving the bowl,” he quietly intoned to Kevin, “And turn it twice—clockwise.”

Kevin followed her lead with the concentration of someone attempting an EVA docking at high velocity. His bow was a little too deep, his fingers fumbling slightly as he received the chawan. Still, he watched, adjusted, and copied her movements with increasing precision. When he forgot to admire the bowl before drinking, she didn’t scold—just smiled softly and demonstrated again. He followed suit with an apologetic glance.

Each motion was prescribed, deliberate. The cleansing of the bamboo whisk, the folding of the linen cloth, the silent presentation of sweets. Nothing was rushed. Nothing extraneous. The Japanese host moved like a ripple across still water. Kevin, by contrast, moved like a ripple trying not to trip over itself. But gradually, the edges of his discomfort began to soften.

“Now, sip,” Shen translated, once Kevin had properly rotated the bowl. “All at once.”

He did. The thick matcha was grassy, bitter, startlingly intense. He blinked. “That’s… wow. That’s alive,” he muttered before catching himself and bowing again, slightly off timing but earnestly meant.

Shen nodded. “It’s meant to bring you into the present moment.”

And Kevin—who had entered the room weighed down by schemes in which he was only a pawn, the awesome responsibilities of family, and upcoming duels with Klingon antagonists —found that, for the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking of any of them. Only the warmth of the ceramic in his hands. The texture of silence. The discipline of stillness.

He wasn't graceful. He wasn't precise. But he was present.

Time drifted slowly as Kevin and Shen sipped the remaining matcha in silent contemplation. The total absence of conversation was soothing as Kevin focused on the taste of the tea, the feel of the ceramic bowl held gently in his fingers, the gentle birdsong coming from outside of the Wa-no-Ma. It was all so relaxing that he almost nodded off when Shen gently nudged him in the ribs. Kevin opened his eyes to see the host smiling patiently at him.

“The ceremony is over,” Shen explained, “It is time for us to show our thanks and depart.” He bowed deep and gracefully to the host as Kevin more awkwardly copied his movements. The host bowed in return and stood to watch the two officers depart through the garden.

They were several steps away, far enough that their conversation could not be overheard when Shen broke the silence. “I have always envied you,” he stated simply.

This brought Kevin up short. He and Shen had been friendly rivals ever since the Andorian had entered the Academy a year behind Kevin. Shen was better at most things. Academics, marksmanship, social interactions. Even on the thrustball field, he excel in a manner that matched Kevin’s skills. He was gifted, intelligent, and popular. What could he possibly be envious of?

Shen took Kevin by the elbow to keep him moving. To loiter in the garden after the end of the tea ceremony would be rude. Kevin allowed himself to be propelled forward as he asked, “Envy me? Of what?”

“Your freedom,” Shen replied in a serious tone that Kevin had never heard from him before, “The open canvas that is your life.”

Kevin was confused. His life, even the parts that Shen knew about, had been a continuous struggle. Even now, on the precipice of marring the women he loved, with a beautiful family and a fulfilling career, he knew how easy it would be to lose it all. “I don’t know what you mean, Shen,” he said.

“I turn thirty next year,” the Andorian explained, “and it might as well be a death sentence.”

“What?’

“As the child of a high ranking member of the Imperial Guard,” Shen continued, “there are certain expectations of me. One of which is marriage to a spouse of suitably high rank herself. I have put it off as long as I could but now I have no choice. Then I will be expected to take a more suitable role in Star Fleet, produce suitable heirs, and further the suitable glory of Andoria.”

“Sounds like quite the plan,” Kevin observed.

“Exactly,” Shen answered, “but it isn’t my choice. That is why I envy you. You chose Star Fleet, chose Mira, chose to raise a family.”

“Having children wasn’t our choice,” Kevin pointed out, “Much as I love my children, their conception was unconventional.”

Shen smiled knowingly, “But it was your choice to love them.”

Kevin shook his head, “It wasn’t my choice, it’s my responsibility.”

“Because you chose to be a responsible, loyal and honorable guy,” Shen countered, “I threw all sorts of temptations at you today. You clearly enjoyed yourself and could have banged any number of women, Orion or not, along the way. But you chose not to. You chose to remain loyal to Mira,” He paused a moment before continuing quietly, “You are a better man than I am.”

“But you want to marry the girl…woman, right?” Kevin asked.

“No,” Shen replied flatly, “We can’t stand each other. But our families have decided and that is the end of the matter. It might not be so bad if I could continue to serve as a fighter wing commander but I am going to get kicked upstairs.”

Shen’s predicament dawned on Kevin. To have your fate predetermined without any regard for your own interests and desires seemed like a prison. Escaping fate was why he had stowed away aboard the Dorcas James so many years ago. “I’m sorry, Shen,” Kevin said with true feeling.

Shen shrugged but then brightened immediately, “Well, I still have most of a year and I will expect you to repay everything I did for you this day at least three-fold before I accept the shackles of matrimony. Speaking of which, we need to get you to Greenland.”

The upcoming nuptials and fatigue from the previous day’s activities came crashing down on Kevin, the serenity of the tea ceremony all but obliterated. “I feel like Void and must look worse,” he admitted, “Mira is going to be angry.”

“I got your back Seventeen,” Shen replied cheerily handing Kevin a packet with two tablets.

“What are these,” Kevin asked suspiciously.

“Andorian battle stimulants,” Shen admitted, “Effective. Dangerous. Highly illegal. But they will revive and keep you going for the next two days before you crash.” Shen leered at Kevin as the two entered the dressing room, “Your little Trill will be highly impressed with your performance and stamina!”

Kevin colored at the implication, “Shen, I am not going to take these.”

“Alright,” Shen continue with air of unconcerned dismissal, “if want to look like shit at your ceremony and disappoint your bride on her wedding night, I ain’t any skin off my antenna. Besides, I had if formulated for human physiology.”

Damn it, Kevin thought, he’s outmaneuvered me again. Shen knew the lengths that Kevin would go to make Mira happy and was using that knowledge against him. Like Shadow but Shen’s motives seem more altruistic. “Fine,” Kevin replied as he swallowed the two pills.

:off

Commander Kevin Lance
Executive Officer
USS Chuck Norris

 

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