Teacher and the student

Posted on Sun Oct 4th, 2026 @ 3:19am by Captain Wilkan Targaryen & Elara Jyn

1,546 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Flashpoint
Location: Ready Room, U.S.S. Enterprise
Timeline: 3190-11-05, 20:00

Elara looked at Wilkan. More closely than usual. She knew something was going on, though she didn't exactly know why. The man across from her had been her guardian for a long time. She had never understood what he had seen in her back then. She had never really asked him. That was eating at her and had done so for a long time. "Sir? I have a question, if you don't mind my asking," she said as she stretched. Life had been busy lately.

Wilkan did not move immediately. His broad hands remained resting flat against his desk, his dark, ancient eyes fixing on Elara with a slow, heavy focus that seemed to absorb the quiet space between them. The cold, clinical stillness that usually wrapped around him like an armor softened by a fraction, though his imposing frame remained as unyielding as ever. Through his subtle, El-Aurian "Listening," he picked up the slight shift in her breathing and the underlying hum of decades-old curiosity that she had carried since her youth.

"Ask, Elara," Wilkan said softly, his voice low and carrying the weight of centuries. He leaned back slightly in his seat, his furrowed brow relaxing just enough to grant her his full, undivided attention. "You rarely speak without purpose, and I have never known you to hesitate without good reason. Whatever is on your mind, you have earned the right to ask it."

"How come you chose me? I'm just an orphan aged out of the system. I've wondered for years why you chose me, out of all people around us," Elara said. It was the first time she had really asked about this. She needed answers, but wasn't sure what those would be. "I don't understand," she admitted.

Wilkan didn't move right away, keeping his posture much the same as he kept up the crushing patience of a glacier. Through his subtle El-Aurian skills he didn't just hear her words; he felt the subsonic frequency of her pulse, the long-standing questions vibrating through her stance. His eyes held hers with a profound, unreadable calm. When he finally spoke, his baritone voice was quiet, stripped of all posturing, carrying only the weight of centuries.

"You believe I chose you out of charity, Elara," Wilkan questioned softly, his voice a steady, low rumble, "or that I saw a project in need of direction?"

"I don't know what to think or feel," Elara admitted. "I am beyond grateful you took me under your wing, I really am. I just don't understand what you see in me." She wanted to know, desperately so. The question came mostly from her growing in an orphanage where she had, along with so many other orphans, been told she had been discarded by her parents. That, and it had been a battlefield among the children themselves, had made her wonder whether anyone cared. Wilkan had cared enough to bring her with him. She just didn't understand the rest. Not when there were tons of children eager for the privilege she had been given by Wilkan.

Wilkan did not offer a comforting smile, nor did he lean forward with performative warmth. He held her gaze with an intense, unwavering clarity that felt as vast as the void of space itself. Through his El-Aurian senses he felt the sharp, jagged frequencies of her past: the echo of cold orphanage halls, the defensive tension built from years of competing merely to be seen, and the hollow, lingering ache of feeling discarded.

"You look at your origin as a deficit, Elara," Wilkan answered calmly, "You compare yourself to those who were given foundations, and you assume my intervention was an act of charity. It was not. In my centuries, I have seen thousands of young lives shaped by comfort, ambition, and institutional polish. Most of them break the moment the structure around them collapses. They rely on the framework to tell them who they are. When I walked into that facility, I did not see a discarded child, nor did I see a project. I heard a frequency."

His perpetually furrowed brow relaxed by an imperceptible fraction, his eyes narrowing slightly, "While the others fought for attention you were observing. You had already learned the cold, fundamental reality of survival: that the universe gives you nothing, and that self-reliance is the only true armor. You did not scream to be heard. You stood still, enduring the noise without letting it break you."

Elara drew in a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "It was more worth watching and knowing, than fighting and screaming. I figured you had your reasons. Reasons that wouldn't be the most obvious. Thank you," she said softly. "For the truth." Wilkan was right. She did feel different from most. The word "frequency" was fitting. As for the fact she had compared herself to others, that was true, too. But maybe the different frequency was just an oddity. Who knew? Elara thought.

She knew that Wilkan had always seen more than what most people did. That he seemed cold and detached was a part of him. She didn't think the whole part of him, but it was enough to form a shield around him. There was rarely anything beyond that. But now and then, she sensed a flicker of difference in him. Not enough to make a dent in his demeanor or change anything. Just enough to know there was something going on.

"It's not an oddity, Elara," Wilkan said softly as he noted the subtle relaxation in her posture and the quiet resolution settling over her rhythm. "In a galaxy constantly shifting under temporal fractures, politics, and war, those who remain unbroken in the quiet are the ones who endure."

"I see. I haven't thought about it that way," Elara admitted. It made sense when Wilkan said it. "I guess I've been uncertain about my purpose and role in life. Thank you. For giving me a new view on my surroundings. It makes a lot of sense to me. I will, however, still learn new things. Knowledge is power after all," she added with a small smile. She had no words for how much Wilkan's word had given her. It wasn't outright praise, but she sensed he wouldn't have worded it the way he had if he hadn't had a bit of pride for her. She knew he would never say the words out loud. That wasn't who he was. Actions did more than simple words. That he had spoken with her about it, made it obvious to her that it meant something to say it. He wasn't a man of many words. Never had been. Wilkan was quiet unless he was needed. He spoke when he had words worth saying.

"Knowledge is a weapon, Elara," Wilkan corrected, "patience and clarity are the armor that allows you to wield it. Never apologize for observing before you act." He paused a moment, using his senses to pick up the faint shift as the decades of lingering doubt inside Elara settled into a quiet, grounded calm.

"You were never discarded," Wilkan concluded, his voice devoid of hollow sentiment, but filled with the absolute, unshakeable certainty of an ancient mentor. "You were merely waiting for a space broad enough to hold your strength. Remember that."

"I will," Elaea assured the man. It was reassuring to know that Wilkan understood her. He was from a different time. The words he spoke had made sense, and reassured her that her insecurities were not the reality. That she was worth more and that she had a purpose. Wilkan had made it make sense to her, in a way no one else had been able to do in the past.

"The past is merely raw material, Elara," Wilkan said as he watched the quiet resolution take root in Elara's posture, observing the subtle shift as the tension built from decades of unspoken doubt finally unraveled before his eyes. "What matters now are the choices you make from this moment forward."

"Return to your duties," Wilkan added calmly, his tone returning to its familiar, measured authority. "We have a ship to run, and I expect your focus to be as absolute as it was when I first found you."

Elara nodded. "I'll get going now. I found a few things I need to look at". She turned to leave,but stopped halfway to the door. "Thank you. I'm not sure where I'd be without your guidance. Thank you for taking me in when I needed the help the most. I'm going to do my best to ensure that we have what we will need from the science post", with that she left. Out in the hallway, she drew in a breath. Talking with Wilkan was always intense. With a small sigh, she went to her science lab. She had picked up some infrequencies during their last enemy encounter.

Wilkan didn't move as the door slid shut, leaving him alone in the heavy quiet of his Ready Room. He didn't offer a silent wish for her success, nor did he allow himself to dwell on the moment. He simply listened to the steady, rhythmic pulse of the ship's systems, satisfied that the structure had held.

 

RSS Feed