Fic: The Odyssey, xxv. tamara
--
“You asked how I find
the instinct to fly.
I had a dog,
a girl named Tamara,
who lived with me
after the captain had died.
She was a stray
who followed me home from
the ship repair yards
at Riverside.
She wasn’t a beauty;
she wasn’t that agile;
she didn’t do tricks;
she didn’t really like
anyone else
to come near and touch her--
she’d bristle her hackles,
then suddenly bite.
Everyone told me
a dog that unfriendly
is dangerous, hazardous,
should be euthanized
I have no idea
why I decided to keep her,
but she chose me--
I couldn’t leave her if I’d tried.
Every day
I’d wake up, go running,
she kept pace with me,
then we’d go for a ride
speeding across
flat country highways
to the site
of the Enterprise.
I’d check in with the captain,
get warp notes from Scotty,
inspect shuttles with Carol,
check up on supplies,
collab on navs with Pavel,
figure panels with Keenser,
conference with 0718,
work auxiliary with Madeleine,
and in all this
she stayed by my side.
Everyone learned
to give her wide berth
get used to her presence
respect her fierce pride.
She was cool and aloof
distant to friends and strangers
except Nyota, Bones, Christine,
Darwin, and Madeleine.
After work I’d go back
with her to the apartment,
we’d go walk to the river
and then she and I
would swim,
chase the squirrels,
dig up moles,
watch the beetles,
do anything
everything
except
go to fly.
Since the events of the Vengeance
I didn’t touch flightcraft,
since our falling through atmo
I never once tried
to keep current on training,
clock hours for simming,
practice anti-G straining,
or work out-- I lied.
I just couldn’t do it
I’d get claustrophobic,
throw up and panic,
didn’t matter what exercise.
I think if I didn’t
have Tamara beside me
it’d be so much worse,
like losing my life.
But she was there
I’d wake up to her licking
my face when my nightmares
blew up in my mind.
She was there, sitting calm
when I sweated while driving;
she’d look at me, trusting
when I’d pull off to the side.
The pieces came back
they came back really slowly.
No one mentioned it, worried--
they said I’m such a zen guy,
keeping my cool
in all of our crises,
keeping my calm
in the aftermath’s tide.
I’m Sulu.
I’m steady.
That’s true of all pilots.
You can’t fly a ship
without discipline designed
to immediate response
to all captain’s orders
and immediate reaction
to the situation’s timeline.
Tamara, she knew me;
she kept my convictions,
she slept right beside me--
a brief year--
until the day that she died.
She left me as suddenly
as when she had found me,
and that night I broke down,
and that night I cried.
That morning I woke up,
went to our shared river,
buried her under
our beloved willow hide.
That day I went
straight to the shuttles
launched into air
through atmo to fly
back up to space
and when I descended
I stared at our planet
Pale Blue Dotted fly.
She lived there, Tamara--
she lived without telling
me her whole story,
though I told her mine.
She lived there, and I will
always be humbled,
grateful and wonder
why she chose to spend time
with a human so wingtorn,
tired but functional,
drained of the smaller
pleasures of life.
She lived, and gave me
my life by being
all that she was,
without compromise.
She lived.
That is how I fly.”
--
“You asked how I find
the instinct to fly.
I had a dog,
a girl named Tamara,
who lived with me
after the captain had died.
She was a stray
who followed me home from
the ship repair yards
at Riverside.
She wasn’t a beauty;
she wasn’t that agile;
she didn’t do tricks;
she didn’t really like
anyone else
to come near and touch her--
she’d bristle her hackles,
then suddenly bite.
Everyone told me
a dog that unfriendly
is dangerous, hazardous,
should be euthanized
I have no idea
why I decided to keep her,
but she chose me--
I couldn’t leave her if I’d tried.
Every day
I’d wake up, go running,
she kept pace with me,
then we’d go for a ride
speeding across
flat country highways
to the site
of the Enterprise.
I’d check in with the captain,
get warp notes from Scotty,
inspect shuttles with Carol,
check up on supplies,
collab on navs with Pavel,
figure panels with Keenser,
conference with 0718,
work auxiliary with Madeleine,
and in all this
she stayed by my side.
Everyone learned
to give her wide berth
get used to her presence
respect her fierce pride.
She was cool and aloof
distant to friends and strangers
except Nyota, Bones, Christine,
Darwin, and Madeleine.
After work I’d go back
with her to the apartment,
we’d go walk to the river
and then she and I
would swim,
chase the squirrels,
dig up moles,
watch the beetles,
do anything
everything
except
go to fly.
Since the events of the Vengeance
I didn’t touch flightcraft,
since our falling through atmo
I never once tried
to keep current on training,
clock hours for simming,
practice anti-G straining,
or work out-- I lied.
I just couldn’t do it
I’d get claustrophobic,
throw up and panic,
didn’t matter what exercise.
I think if I didn’t
have Tamara beside me
it’d be so much worse,
like losing my life.
But she was there
I’d wake up to her licking
my face when my nightmares
blew up in my mind.
She was there, sitting calm
when I sweated while driving;
she’d look at me, trusting
when I’d pull off to the side.
The pieces came back
they came back really slowly.
No one mentioned it, worried--
they said I’m such a zen guy,
keeping my cool
in all of our crises,
keeping my calm
in the aftermath’s tide.
I’m Sulu.
I’m steady.
That’s true of all pilots.
You can’t fly a ship
without discipline designed
to immediate response
to all captain’s orders
and immediate reaction
to the situation’s timeline.
Tamara, she knew me;
she kept my convictions,
she slept right beside me--
a brief year--
until the day that she died.
She left me as suddenly
as when she had found me,
and that night I broke down,
and that night I cried.
That morning I woke up,
went to our shared river,
buried her under
our beloved willow hide.
That day I went
straight to the shuttles
launched into air
through atmo to fly
back up to space
and when I descended
I stared at our planet
Pale Blue Dotted fly.
She lived there, Tamara--
she lived without telling
me her whole story,
though I told her mine.
She lived there, and I will
always be humbled,
grateful and wonder
why she chose to spend time
with a human so wingtorn,
tired but functional,
drained of the smaller
pleasures of life.
She lived, and gave me
my life by being
all that she was,
without compromise.
She lived.
That is how I fly.”
--