Half-Light

Posted on Tue Jan 6th, 2026 @ 1:10pm by Rook & Tavrek Harland

3,148 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: The Green Kiss, USS Guinevere
Timeline: Early 2389

Tavrek stepped into The Green Kiss with the quiet certainty of someone who had chosen to be among others and paused just inside. Music rose from the far end where the dance floor pulsed with light and rhythm. Closer to the bar, the volume softened. A sound-dampening field, perhaps. It explained how conversation moved easily here, uninterrupted. A thoughtful design. He did not often seek bars. There were other places for silence and tea. But tonight, he wanted a drink. And people. To feel the ship through laughter, shifting weight, breath. A different kind of reading, a different aspect of life.

He wore a slate tunic with a cross-woven texture that caught the light in motion. Over it, a lightweight grey coat hung open. His trousers matched, and his boots were soft and silent. Nothing called attention, but everything was deliberate. He noticed that there were no free tables. He glanced once across the room, mapping mood and movement, then made his way to the bar.

His eyes went to the man behind it and Tavrek paused.

The man was striking. Lean, tall, with long black hair tied back loosely. The wave in it gave a kind of wildness, at odds with the stillness in his posture He had sharp cheekbones, pale skin and dark blue eyes...to Tavrek it reminded him of the sky just past nightfall. Not empty, not cold...just watchful. He wasn't a full Vulcan. Tavrek could see it, sense it, the way someone could hear a familiar accent in a word and know instinctually that they came from the same place they did. "Hello," he said, watching his face.

Rook glanced up from the chopping board, but his gaze lingered on him, taking the man in. There was something familiar in the way he moved and held himself...not exactly Vulcan, but the blueprint was there. Stillness. Efficiency. Vulcan bone structure but with human softness. And those kind of smile lines didn't form with emotionally void people. Rook could easily recognise people caught between worlds, built from contradictions, and it usually made them either dangerous or fascinating. Or maybe a little of both, which was his favourite kind. "Welcome," he returned the greeting, but in Vulcan.

Tavrek gave a small smile, raising an eyebrow at the words. "Thank you. Do you have a menu?" he spoke Vulcan in return...fluent, yes, but the sort of accentless that happened when someone had never spent any real time on Vulcan.

"Of course," Rook took the light screen, sliding it to him with a small smile. He was Vulcan enough to have learnt the language at least. But he recognised the accent for what it was. "But I can get you anything you might like. Within reason of course. I specialise in cocktails."

"Specialise?" Tavrek studied him at the words, his ears listening to Rook's voice...at how neutral it was. How he couldn't pinpoint an origin. "Do you create your own?"

"I can if it pleases you, or there are the house specials on there if you prefer to be safe," Rook replied with an arched eyebrow, leaning forward on the bar with folded arms.

Tavrek chuckled, a small smile curling his lips. "Safe. An interesting word to use, for a drink," he commented before he nodded. "I would very much like to see what you can do. I am sure it will be..." he paused and the smile that came was close to playful. "Fascinating."

Rook snorted at the use of the word, shaking his head lightly with a tut as he set a small cup of Vulcan tea to brew. He set out a stemless wine glass, dropping a large rock of ice into it. He added Japanese whiskey followed by mead. A few drops of ginger syrup from the stem ginger jar followed, before he sliced open a lemon, squeezing the juice directly in. He took hold of a device that looked like a small rod, passing it over the Vulcan tea, instantly cooling it. He strained it straight into the glass before using a dried cinnamon stick to stir it all together around the ice rock. He set the stick aside but added a slice of crystalised ginger to the rim before offering it over. "Half-Light...the moment where night meets day."

Tavrek took it, holding his eyes before he nodded. "A perfect moment," he said before he supped it. He could taste the cinnamon despite the other flavours, his tastebuds attuned to it. Well balanced. A little firey, a little smoky. "And a perfect drink for the mood."

Rook tilted his head in gratitude to his approval before starting to tidy up after himself. "I stock a few Vulcan teas, if you ever run out..."

"It is a kind offer," Tavrek said and inclined his head in thanks. "If you are ever interested, I prepare kas’for-ila tea by hand. It is a blend I have been perfecting for years."

Rook watched him with genuine surprise, pausing as he brushed his hands off. "Absolutely, you'd be willing to share it?"

"Of course," Tavrek said as he watched him, a small smile coming to him as he watched the other Vulcanoid. "Some things are best enjoyed when you share them."

"I can't argue with that," he chuckled gently, continuing to tidy. "What do you do here, Tavrek? You don't seem a uniform type..."

"I am not," Tavrek admitted as he lifted the glass to sip, appreciating the complex flavours. They danced across his tongue, not too heavy, not light. "I am a civilian. Translator specialist, Diplomatic detachment."

"Ah..." Rook said thoughtfully as he came to rest against the bar, looking upward as he processed the information and stored it away. "So you are a master linguist?"

"I would not say I am a master at it," Tavrek said and tilted his head. "That would imply I had nothing left to learn."

"Hm...not good at taking compliments either..." Rook chuckled softly, resting his chin in his hand as he studied him.

"Your tone suggested a question, not a compliment," Tavrek countered as he raised an eyebrow, studying him. "But I am good at what I do. Like all, I can improve. I also have a tendency to read...the underlying tones, not just what is written or said. The...silence between."

"The shadows can be filled with fascinating secrets," Rook agreed softly, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

"And learning those secrets..." Tavrek studied him, searching his eyes. "Well. Can be useful."

"You shall have to give me lessons," Rook replied lightly with a soft chuckle. Because it felt a little like a hustle.

"Somehow...I doubt you need lessons," Tavrek said with a bow of his head. "I suspect you could teach me a lot more."

"Now that will depend on what you wish to learn," Rook half warned, chuckling softly at the idea of it. "So civilian linguist, what brings you to a Starfleet vessel?"

"A very...old story," Tavrek said before he tilted his head. "Something went wrong and I decided I wanted a ship. Something...smaller, where the work came in when it was relevant."

"Ah..." Rook considered, nodding slowly as the cogs turned in his mind. He was seeking the pack. "And there is enough here? To keep you...busy?"

"There is always other work to be done," Tavrek said with a small smile. "And languages to learn. I find things to occupy myself with. Including the reports from the diplomatic corps."

"Diplomatic corps..." Rook gave a soft snort of sceptical laughter, arching an eyebrow. "And people say intelligence are the ones who weave the tangled webs, they have nothing on the diplomatic corps."

"Oh...it's a dance of language, of nuance," Tavrek said with a small smile, his eyes on Rook before he smiled. A genuine smile that seemed to ease the Vulcan appearance a bit. "It's why I love it."

"Detailed...subtle...meticulous...cunning..." Rook chuckled softly as he reached for a glass to pour himself a drink. "I can see why you love it..."

Tavrek took a sip of his own drink as he studied his movements. "You too love it. Language. Your observational skills seem...quite remarkable."

Rook glanced to him with surprise at his noticing. Although, he should have realised. "You have a lot of time to watch and listen in a place like this. No responsibility, no authority...just living."

"Hm...." Tavrek watched him with clear interest at that. "And you've found a place where you feel alive?"

"Or at least, can stay alive," Rook quirked an eyebrow at him, a glint in his eyes that made it impossible to tell if he meant what he said.

Tavrek's eyebrow raised at the words, a small smile coming to him. "Sometimes, that is all that matters," he said quietly. "Until things stabilise yet again."

"Is that what you crave? A stable life?" he asked openly, sipping his tonic, but his eyes never left him. The man had enough smile and laughter lines not to live the usual dull Vulcan life.

"If it was, I would have gone to Vulcan," Tavrek admitted as he watched him, a small chuckle escaping. "I have enough human in me to...want a bit of an adventure too."

Rook gave a theatrical shudder as he leant against the bar with one elbow, arching an eyebrow with distaste. "You made the right choice..."

"So have you," Tavrek whispered before running his eyes over his face. "Hybrids like ourselves...never truly fit in on Vulcan."

"The day I do fit in there, I'll drink poison," Rook replied bluntly as he took a swig. There was none of his usual ambiguity either. He meant it.

Tavrek nodded, watching him with interest. "It is not often I encounter others who...feel like that about fitting in on Vulcan," he admitted, and there was even a softness to it that had not been there earlier.

"Vulcans would never admit it, but they're so concerned about people pleasing...or at least, Vulcan pleasing. It's never bothered me," Rook admitted openly, even sparing a shrug. "There is so much more out here. Why confine yourself to one way of being."

Tavrek sipped his drink, considering it for a moment. And those who did not Vulcan please, were seen as eccentrics. His mother had been one of them, marrying a human, having a child and chosing not to raise him on Vulcan. To let him become who he was, not tied down by expectation. "It is a carefully...curated life, living like a Vulcan. I couldn't do it."

"A tiresome life. That is the word you so diplomatically avoided there," Rook chuckled softly at the tact of the man, shaking his head.

"Some enjoy it, in their own way," Tavrek said as he tilted his head to the side. "Some full blooded Vulcans do."

"So they say," Rook tossed a knife in the air, catching it lightly before setting to work slicing segments out of a peach, fanning them out on a plate. "I think it's one big conspiracy."

Tavrek watched with interest, at the grace he used to do it, and the sharpness of the blade. "My mother enjoys it, in her own way. Yet knew enough not to raise me there."

"I am just saying it is suspicious just how much more Vulcan the full bloods become when people from other races are watching them..." Rook arched an eyebrow, sliding the plate across for him to eat from.

Tavrek bowed his head in thanks and picked up a piece, trying it. His eyebrows raised with surprise at the taste and he smiled. "I think sometimes, it is done as a tease...or test."

"Or both," Rook agreed, chuckling softly at his reaction. "I can get you some real food if you need, just let me know. That peach was hand grown, I might be biased, but I swear you can tell the difference."

Tavrek smiled as he looked at him, nodding. "You can," he said and held the piece up, studying it. "Because it is not as perfect. You replicate a hundred apples, they all look and taste the same. You grow them...and they are all slightly different. Some sweeter, some tarter...some prettier..."

"Just like people," Rook replied innocently, unable to help himself. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Tavrek chuckled as he met his eyes, raising an eyebrow in response. "People are just as complex. Different background, different impulses..."

"And hand grown...mostly," Rook slid a menu into the man's view, tapping the screen awake. "And good for you, they all have different languages and nuances."

Tavrek looked down at it, smiling as he scrolled through the menu options. "Mac and cheese bites?" he asked, not having heard about it. It had in brackets it was from Earth.

"Pure decadence," he warned, letting out a soft, playful breath of disapproval. "Pasta, in a thick cheese sauce, crumbed and deep fried...."

"Yes please," Tavrek laughed suddenly, a very human sound as his eyes shone with it. "I've always been...partial for things of decadence."

"Is that so?" Rook chuckled softly at the trait that seemed so at odds with Vulcan heritage. But then, wasn't that the point? He put the order in for the mac and cheese bites, adding another for onion rings. "I shall have to keep that in mind, Tavrek."

"You should," he said with a chuckle, tilting his head. "As I have to keep in mind your...quirks."

"I can give you a good run for your money, working out what my words mean," he teased him...well, half teased him.

Tavrek raised an eyebrow, taking a slow breath. "Oh, challenge accepted," he said, his voice soft. "It has been a while since I have played such games."

"Is that not what your job is all about?" he teased lightly, moving to the hatch to fetch the plates, setting them down carefully.

"You mistake me for a diplomat...I analyse language, look for hidden meaning...or prevent things getting too far. I do not speak," Tavrek said as he looked at him with a glint in his eyes.

"No....no, Starfleet mistakes you for a diplomat," Rook shot back, challenge in his eyes as a smile tugged at his lips.

"And what do you think I am?" Tavrek countered, glancing to the plates. He judged it had cool down enough so he picked up one to eat, enjoying the texture and taste.

Rook took a step back, taking his time contemplating the man in front of him...and whether he should actually say what he thought or not. There were times for truths and times for lies. One of his greatest skills was working out which was which. "Something more than your parts."

Tavrek raised an eyebrow, picking up another piece to eat. He considered the words before he tilted his hand. "I never did like falling into what was expected," he said with a small smile.

"And there's power in that," Rook agreed with a soft chuckle, clearly satisfied to be on the money once more.

"As you well know," Tavrek countered, his voice soft as he held his eyes. "There is a lot of power in knowing how you can...shape the things around you, with what they expect of you versus what you actually do."

A small smile curled at Rook's lips...something passing behind his eyes, but the fleeting emotion was unclear. "I would never presume to be so powerful..."

"Not many would..." Tavrek whispered and smiled, offering the plate to Rook for him to have some if he wished. "I like theorising about it though."

"Theories, are they?" Rook chuckled softly as he leant on the bar, taking a snack up. He bit in, taking his time to appreciate it. It felt so wrong, and yet so right. "You know, I think you and I could take the ship," he chuckled.

Tavrek chuckled as he watched him, raising an eyebrow in question. "I am not sure we would get to the bridge...have you seen how well armed the people here are?"

"Ways and means, my dear man," Rook quirked an eyebrow before popping the last of the bite into his mouth. "Ways and means..."

Tavrek chuckled softly, watching him for a long moment. "Yes...I can imagine," he said and leant closer. "After all, you only need a few well placed...people...to take over a ship..."

"Think we're up to it?" Rook teased lightly, shaking his head with a small smile of amusement.

"Oh, I am sure we are," Tavrek said and reached for his drink, sipping it. "And I am sure that no one will find it amiss if we waltzed onto the bridge."

"You, perhaps," Rook smiled wryly, trying to imagine the faces of the senior crew if the bar manager stepped one foot onto the bridge.

Tavrek raised an eyebrow, placing the drink down now it was finished. For a moment, he just took in Rook's face, his appearance. "Or perhaps not. They would all panic that they had forgotten something. Drunken promises of guided tours..."

"Now there's a thought..." Rook chuckled, leaning in closer on the bar to lower his voice. "Are you sure there's not a strand or two of Romulan in you?"

"I don't need it...I have enough human in me to be devious," Tavrek said with a straight face, holding his eyes as he kept his voice on the same level as Rook.

"Hm, that does explain matters," Rook nodded with a mock serious expression, sighing softly. "Not that they care to admit it."

"Fascinating...isn't it..." Tavrek said with a small smile. "How species always hide aspects of themselves."

"I find it is just about finding the right quality for the right task," Rook chuckled, leaning to clean the bar up. "Adaptability gets you everywhere."

Tavrek studied him for a moment at the words, the smile fading...but the warmth remained. "Perhaps in the coming days, when you are not working...I can make you some tea. And we can talk about adaptability?"

"You are offering to make me a drink?" Rook looked to him with surprise. He could count on one hand the amount of times it had been that way around. "Yes, I...I think I should like that, thank you."

"I think you are a man who enjoys a good Vulcan tea," Tavrek said with a chuckle, holding his eyes. "Or at least the ritual of one. So. We will do it then. When you are free."

Rook chuckled softly as he glanced around, contemplating just how many hours he spent in the place. "I'll make it work."

---

Tavrek Harland
Translation Specialist
USS Guinevere

Rook
Proprietor of The Green Kiss
USS Guinevere

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