Starting a Hnaev Day

[Mreh K'hal 0]

The Daise'Maenak had ordered him in before his duty shift, and by the time he was finished with his physical therapy Arrenhe tr'Khev's energy supply for the day was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He could do something for the former. Indeed as he entered his quarters he headed straight for the small replicator in his room and then ordered up an energy-laden protein drink. After gulping it down, he stripped out of his jumpsuit, his injured arm hampering the effort a bit as the muscles screamed to his brain that they weren't happy at all with what just happened. Even though, the brain knew, the cause of the discomfort was "for the best." As he recycled the glass back into the system and then headed for the shower, the diminutive dheno tried to boost his emotional fatigue.

 

"It's worth it," he said aloud to himself. "I'd have to do this whether I was in Galae or na so that I could lead a useful life. At least, with t'Ksa monitoring the therapy, au know that so long as au follow her instructions the arm will be as good as it can get." As he cleaned the sweat and grime from his body, he attempted to ignore the weakness of his arm and look at the pain philosophically. Every ripple of thunder rumbling through his arm was a step toward progress. Seeing as most of his mind agreed with both the sentiment and the fact, it helped a little. His major problem was na in trying to rebuild his arm to functionality, but the knowledge that it was na going to be the same as before. From being a prominent musician, playing horribly difficult instruments, he would have to re-train his arm just to do standard tasks without difficulty. Certainly at this point he could na even be sure that it would rebuild sufficiently so that he could be a proper dheno.

 

Neither could he be certain that he had the right "stuff" to be a proper dheno, injury or na. Certainly there were other avenues available in Galae he could pursue, though because of the damage to his arm and the resultant destruction of his old reflexes and manual dexterity he did na believe he could pilot anything but a garbage scow efficiently anymore. He'd discovered over the last few days of limited duty that administrative tasks were something he could do well, and surprisingly even enjoyed. Apparently it ran in the family: his dinam being the attache to tr'Vorn; his ri'nanov being the chief of staff for his ne'Deihu di'ranov. The major difference between Arrenhe and the rest of his family was that he could never stand the politics.

 

That probably would be of little use to him, he figured. If he couldn't work out as a dheno anymore there would probably be no place for him on the Talon. Considering they were heading for the Gamma Quadrant for a year long mission, that didn't bode well, as he figured t'Rexan would more than happily dump him off the ship at DS9 or Camelot if she had no use for him. Trying to get back to Rihan space would na be fun in that circumstance.

 

As he dressed in his uniform for his upcoming duty shift, he sighed. First thing on the agenda was a meeting with N'Dak, to discuss his "other duties" while he was still doing physical therapy. While the Daise Erie'Riov was nice to look at, and oh how annoying was that, unless the N'Dak of reputation and Arrenhe's own experience had suddenly taken a turn for the generous, he could na possibly imagine getting any help from the elder Rihan in trying to find a suitable niche. Likely enough N'Dak would assign him busy work so that the maneuvering egotist could have more time to plot his next jump on the political ladder.

 

"Elements," he said to himself as he smoothed out his hair in front of the mirror. "This day is looking to be majorly hnaev."