Post by Captain Falla on Feb 10, 2009 15:37:00 GMT 12
C’lia’s Past
No one truly knows how, five hundred years this time, the Vulcan shuttle crash-landed in the Pacific Ocean. All that is known is that there were very few survivors of the crash… only one, actually. Picked up by the Coast Guard, who thought the shuttle was an airplane going down, she was immediately adopted by the man who found her – who saw her and wanted to protect her. Yes, the only survivor was an toddler – a girl. She couldn’t have been more than three or perhaps four when she was picked up, and already spoke much of a strange language that she quickly forgot. She was named Celia, and when she was adopted, she took on the last name Reten.
As the girl grew, she knew she was different. However, in the early twenty-first century, no one knew of the alien races. They had not been contacted. Protected, hidden by her family in their anscestral home in Ireland, she cultivated a variety of intrests, ranging from learning Gaelic to Gymnastics. By the time she was thirteen, she was fluent in several languages, and had developed several ways of controlling herself.
Music was one such outlet for her to vent her feelings. The piles and piles of sheet music often laid around her room, later scanned and uploaded to her ever-present laptop. The tunes ranged from discordant and heavily violent to soft, sweet, and vulnerable. They were her diary, her journal… accurate snapshots of her soul. She didn’t often allow others to see them, though they couldn’t be read like a journal.
However, being Vulcan, she tended toward the sciences. She seemed to absorb the maths and sciences quickly, and every once in a while, she could remember another place… hot, dry. She could remember a face that was different from those around her, a woman’s face, one that was deadly serious but at the same time not cruel… With short-cropped hair. But as she got older, that face grew blurry and faded, however hard she tried to hold on to it. The only remnant she had of that, of who… and what she was, was something she vaguely remembered being called a Pleenok. Even as a teen, she enjoyed playing around with the pyramid-shaped puzzle.
When she was thirteen, they moved to Phoenix, Arizona. At first she was uncomfortable there, but the heat and dryness suited her. She continued with her Gymnastics, and joined an acting troupe, eventually playing the lead in the Musical Legally Blonde when she was fifteen.
For her fourteenth birthday, her adoptive parents gave her a small piece of petrified wood, not much bigger than a nickel.
About a year later, she was getting ready to go to class – she’d graduated High School that year and was going to start her first collage class. She’d just ended her last performance with the musical, and even had it recorded on her laptop. As she started to walk out the door, as an afterthought, she put down her bag and grabbed the stone. She was heading off to her geology class at the collage, she might as well bring a rock. They’d never been able to identify it, anyway… Maybe the professor could.
Unseen by her owner, a small kitten slipped into the backpack her owner was using to transport her textbook, laptop, and leisure reading book.
With the rock in her hand, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed off to the bus.
However, the air seemed to be wavering in front of her, and as she stepped into it, she was thrown across time… into the twenty-third century.
As she was thrown on the ground, she was someplace different… As she looked up, the road was still there, but no bus stop.
In her exact words – “I hoped I would be dead before unisuits were in style…” She was discovered and taken in by a Vulcan professor at Starfleet academy, who was visiting a friend in Phoenix. Very soon after, as soon as she got used to the idea that she was in the future, he began training her to suppress her emotions. However, no amount of discipline can replace control being learned at a young age – though she was extremely logical.
She loaded all the data on her laptop to a small handheld viewer, including all her downloaded sheet music and the stuff she’d written, plus the video of the play she was in.
She got extra tutoring from the Vulcan in school-like subjects, and eventually knew enough to enter Starfleet Acadamy when she was seventeen.
No one truly knows how, five hundred years this time, the Vulcan shuttle crash-landed in the Pacific Ocean. All that is known is that there were very few survivors of the crash… only one, actually. Picked up by the Coast Guard, who thought the shuttle was an airplane going down, she was immediately adopted by the man who found her – who saw her and wanted to protect her. Yes, the only survivor was an toddler – a girl. She couldn’t have been more than three or perhaps four when she was picked up, and already spoke much of a strange language that she quickly forgot. She was named Celia, and when she was adopted, she took on the last name Reten.
As the girl grew, she knew she was different. However, in the early twenty-first century, no one knew of the alien races. They had not been contacted. Protected, hidden by her family in their anscestral home in Ireland, she cultivated a variety of intrests, ranging from learning Gaelic to Gymnastics. By the time she was thirteen, she was fluent in several languages, and had developed several ways of controlling herself.
Music was one such outlet for her to vent her feelings. The piles and piles of sheet music often laid around her room, later scanned and uploaded to her ever-present laptop. The tunes ranged from discordant and heavily violent to soft, sweet, and vulnerable. They were her diary, her journal… accurate snapshots of her soul. She didn’t often allow others to see them, though they couldn’t be read like a journal.
However, being Vulcan, she tended toward the sciences. She seemed to absorb the maths and sciences quickly, and every once in a while, she could remember another place… hot, dry. She could remember a face that was different from those around her, a woman’s face, one that was deadly serious but at the same time not cruel… With short-cropped hair. But as she got older, that face grew blurry and faded, however hard she tried to hold on to it. The only remnant she had of that, of who… and what she was, was something she vaguely remembered being called a Pleenok. Even as a teen, she enjoyed playing around with the pyramid-shaped puzzle.
When she was thirteen, they moved to Phoenix, Arizona. At first she was uncomfortable there, but the heat and dryness suited her. She continued with her Gymnastics, and joined an acting troupe, eventually playing the lead in the Musical Legally Blonde when she was fifteen.
For her fourteenth birthday, her adoptive parents gave her a small piece of petrified wood, not much bigger than a nickel.
About a year later, she was getting ready to go to class – she’d graduated High School that year and was going to start her first collage class. She’d just ended her last performance with the musical, and even had it recorded on her laptop. As she started to walk out the door, as an afterthought, she put down her bag and grabbed the stone. She was heading off to her geology class at the collage, she might as well bring a rock. They’d never been able to identify it, anyway… Maybe the professor could.
Unseen by her owner, a small kitten slipped into the backpack her owner was using to transport her textbook, laptop, and leisure reading book.
With the rock in her hand, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed off to the bus.
However, the air seemed to be wavering in front of her, and as she stepped into it, she was thrown across time… into the twenty-third century.
As she was thrown on the ground, she was someplace different… As she looked up, the road was still there, but no bus stop.
In her exact words – “I hoped I would be dead before unisuits were in style…” She was discovered and taken in by a Vulcan professor at Starfleet academy, who was visiting a friend in Phoenix. Very soon after, as soon as she got used to the idea that she was in the future, he began training her to suppress her emotions. However, no amount of discipline can replace control being learned at a young age – though she was extremely logical.
She loaded all the data on her laptop to a small handheld viewer, including all her downloaded sheet music and the stuff she’d written, plus the video of the play she was in.
She got extra tutoring from the Vulcan in school-like subjects, and eventually knew enough to enter Starfleet Acadamy when she was seventeen.