Admiral James Pauly stood in his office, coffee cup in his left hand, gazing out the window at the Starfleet headquarters complex. He wasn’t the most senior admiral, but he was also not the most junior. No, he found himself right in the middle of the pack.

Which is where he liked to be. Being in the middle gave one enough pull with the senior admirals to make a difference, but also kept one close enough to the juniors that they didn’t feel totally on the outside. It was his favorite place to be.

And in fact, that adore mentioned pull with the more senior admirals was the reason for the meeting he had in two minutes. If the other party wasn’t late that is.

And of course, Pierce Hunnicutt was never late. He was rarely early, but at least nobody could complain that he wasn’t punctual. And so, exactly at 1100 on the nose, Pauly’s com chirped and his secretary’s voice said, “Captain Hunnicutt to see you, sir.”

“Send him in,” replied Pauly, turning from the window and setting the coffee cup on his desk.

“Captain Pierce Hunnicutt, reporting as ordered, sir,” said Pierce as he entered the office.

“Yeah yeah,” replied Pauly. “Sit down Hunnicutt. Want some coffee?” But he was already pouring a second cup. Hunnicutt had been a bit of a protege of his during his time at the academy and the two had kept in touch over the years, so Pauly knew he was always up for coffee.

“No thanks, I’m trying to cut back,” answered Hunnicutt as he accepted the proffered cup and took the chair opposite Pauly.

“Why?” asked Pauly, flabergasted.

“I have no idea,” answered Pierce, now sipping the hot liquid.

Pauly had never quite gotten used to Hunnicutt’s dry humor and so it was a beat before he realized it had been a sort of joke and returned the younger man’s grin. “No good reason,” he replied, taking his own chair and folding his hands on top of his desk. “How is Theo?”

“Doing well,” answered Pierce. “Just finished his residency. If his letters are to be believed, he’s a kick ass doctor.”

“You must be proud.”

“Oh not at all!” replied Pierce with obvious sarcasm. “He’s only the best kid in the whole universe, you know. Nothing to get excited about.” He grinned. “But I don’t think you summoned me from halfway across the universe to chat about my son.”

“No,” admitted Pauly. “Tell me, Pierce, what do you know about Project Long Jump?”

“Sending a whole fleet to another galaxy by skipping all the travel,” replied Pierce. “It’s the talk of Starfleet. All the girls want one.”

Another beat as Pauly processed this. “Indeed,” he said. “I’m not an engineer, so I don’t pretend to understand it at all, but as I understand it, that is the basics. Long Jump sends a whole ship- or station- across the universe and into another galaxy without having to actually pass through all the space between here and there.”

“Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred credits.”

“Er… yes,” said Pauly. “Anyway. In this case, Messier four, as we know it. There are hostile forces, of course. We had foreseen that. But there are also descendants of the Reciprocity of Carcosia. You remember them from your history lessons?”

Pierce nodded. The Reciprocity of Carcosia had been a precursor to the United Federation of Planets. He didn’t remember a lot about them, but enough to be surprised that some of them had found themselves in another galaxy.

“Yes, well, Starfleet is fearful that our presence may affect how the natives act towards Carcosia,” went on Pauly. “So far, they have been largely ignored, but since we’re some of the same species, they may decide to attack.”

“Sounds like fun neighbors,” commented Pierce.

“Indeed,” agreed Pauly, not missing the sarcasm this time. “Both the Traveller and Canopus Station have experienced issues in dealing with these native races. Starfleet has decided to revive an old program from wartime. Nicknamed MASH- Mobile Army Surgical Hospital- for similar programs of the same name from Earth’s twentieth century.”

“Hospital ships,” commented Pierce. “I never encountered one during the Dominion War, but I heard about them. So where do I come in?”

“We want you to Captain Messier Four’s first MASH ship.”

“I didn’t realize Starfleet brass likes me so much.”

“They don’t.”

“I’m relieved.”

“But I do,” countered Pauly.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.”

“I mean it, Hunnicutt,” replied Pauly. “They put me in charge of finding a suitable captain. I knew it had to be someone who was close enough to medicine to still jump in when needed, but he- or she- also needed command experience. You are the best candidate. Sure, you’ve been out of Sick Bay for four years, but reports from the Scorpio shows that you have been filling in several times a month, whenever they need you. You still know your way around a surgery gallery and you have enough command experience to suit me just fine.”

“And Starfleet brass bought all this?” asked Pierce. “I’ve got a bridge I’d like to sell them.”

“They took some convincing,” admitted Pauly. “But in the end, even they had to admit I was right.”

“I’ve never felt that doctors belong in command,” added Pierce, now serious for once in his life. “More so after being an XO. We should stay doctors until we retire or get too old to hold a laser scalpel, whichever comes first.”

“Are you declining the position?”

“Let me finish. This might just be different.” He paused a moment. “The idea is to put me in Sick Bay more frequently?”

“Probably most of the time,” agreed Pauly. “You and your XO will spend a lot of time in Sick Bay. We had originally thought to put the Chief Medical Officer in charge of the missions, while the Captain stayed on the bridge and steered the ship, but anybody can steer the ship. Doing things that way would effectively make the Chief Medical Officer the Captain and the Captain the pilot.”

“So I would also be the Chief Medical Officer.”

“In a manner of speaking,” answered Pauly. “There technically isn’t a Chief. Oh each specialty will have its chiefs, of course- Pediatrics, Obstetrics, orthopedics, surgery, etcetera- but no real Chief medical officer.” He chuckled. “That would be like having a head doctor over Starfleet Medical. Sure, there’s Admiral Grey and he oversees everything that happens over there, but there is no chief medical officer under him. He’s the CO and the Chief.”

Pierce nodded, mulling it over quickly. “Where do I sign?”

L'Noryn had been the first officer to arrive and thus as Head Nurse, took it upon herself to check-off all arrivals to the ship - At least until command staff arrived. Which may well be a few days to a week from now. As with all postings, after informing arrivals of their sleeping billets, she also handed out kaper assignments to ready the ship.

Drydock engineers were already busy painting the hull and touching up the medical decals that labeled the ship a hospital to friends and foes. So it was the interior that was left to the ship's crew.

Many aspects of the ship still needed to be checked. Non-replicable medicine stores, medical tool functionality, and placement of emergency aid stations near key parts of the ship. There was also the question of biocontainment capability. Visual inspection of air shafts and seals, be it hard seals or forcefields would have to suffice for now, until their expert in contagion specialist arrived.

"...Crew quarters. Bunkroom 4," L'Noryn told a very young - fresh from corpsmen school, E1. "Once you're stored, I want you cracking open the emergency resuscitation kits on decks five through nine. If we have any outdated opioid cartridges, bring it to me or an attending officer of Sickbay, and replace the bad cartridges with new ones."

"Aye, aye," the young human said and walked off with her Starfleet regulation duffle to find her rack.

"Name and billet posting," L'Noryn prompted to the next person in-line.

"Konrad Anjou, surgeon. Are you Deltan?" Konrad asked.

"Half," L'Noryn answered and looked up at Konrad through her tinted glasses.

"Lights aren't that bright," came a female voice from behind. A WO, by the looks of the pip. "Deltans don't have light sensitivity..."

"I was hit with flak mortars years ago," L'Noryn admitted. "Everything is in order, Doctor Anjou... Since you're the ranking physician, I'll slate you with taking care of the outdated drugs and making sure all the narcotics are tracked. Of course, I can pass it along to your subordinate here. Warrant Officer Mary Roberts is your resident neurosurgeon."

As not many warrants were doctors, Mary was not all that surprised with L'Noryn's deductive reasoning. Mary also took note of the Deltan's bracelet. She'd seen Orion females in the fleet with hormone suppressant bracelets. Never a Deltan, which she found odd.

"Oh I insist Doctor Anjou take that responsibility. I mean, you're far more experienced than I am," Mary evaded and deftly passed the puck in the Chief Surgeon's direction.

"I'll take care of the drugs and narcotics myself." Konrad smiled at L'Noryn and Mary. "I wouldn't want the word to get out that Dr. Anjou gives out only low-grade narcotics."

"And who are you, if may ask?" Mary asked in a friendly tone, then amended, "...Ma'am."

"L'Noryn. Your Head Nurse and for the moment, this month's sanitation officer," L'Noryn answered instantly. Why not? There weren't many officers around just yet to shift the smaller, unwanted duties to. It was better she take that job while in dock anyway and make things easier on everyone else.

"So where are we sleeping?" Mary asked excitedly.

"Doctor Anjou is in Senior Officer quarters but the room is not stated," L'Noryn answered as she looked back to her PADD. "I guess the command staff will give specialists and senior lieutenants final assignments once the list of officers has been finalized... For now, bunk in the on-call room, Doctor. Most of the junior and senior officers will not arrive for another few days, with the second wave of arrivals, so it should not be too rough in the on-call bunkroom."

Konrad raised an eyebrow. "That's a little unorthodox. Are there at least beds in the bunkroom?"

"There are four bunks in the room. And it looks like the three of us are billeting in them, until final room assignments are in," L'Noryn admitted. "I claimed a bottom already, to shield my eyes from as much light as I can when I'm not wearing my glasses... I mean, I could tell you to just pick a room, but you may have to repack and move to a different one when the CO and his command staff arrive."

"No, the bunkroom sounds fun. Especially as you want the bottom position." Konrad smiled mirthfully. "Don't worry about the lights, we can keep them low."

"The sentiment is appreciated," L'Noryn smiled, genuine and with a little blush.

The Deltan has a crush, Mary snickered lowly to herself.

"...but it would be unfair of me to deprive the majority in the on-call room of their comfort," L'Noryn continued. "As my Vulcan foster parents say, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

Konrad was a little surprised by L'Noryn's reaction. "Alright then. If you are ever interested, I do have a few rare Vulcan literate books. We could discuss them over a bottle of fine wine?"

Oh, I could have soo much fun with these two, Mary mused to herself. Konrad did not mess around and it made the Head Nurse visually blush. Mary thought about making the Deltan even more flush, if not for the small hiss and a blue-blinking light that emitted from the Deltan's bracelet.

"I'm not much into wine, but sure." L'Noryn agreed, some of the flush in her face dissipating. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach all the sudden and if it were not for the smug smile on Mary's face, L'Noryn might have said something incredibly twitterpatedly silly to the chief surgeon at that moment.

"So does that mean I'm the Officer of the Watch when you two eat dinner?" Mary smirked. The snickers from some of the enlisted in the line behind Mary made her regret that statement. The warrant had forgotten that they were not alone in the boarding hatch.

"I think I'll let you handle your department member," L'Noryn evaded with a half-smile. She was not amused by Mary at all.

"I see we have a sense of humor." Konrad told Mary in a friendly tone. "Still, much better than the nurse Ratchet type. If I may ask, you're a surgeon and yet you only hold the rank of Warrant Officer? Why is that?"

"Something about having undesirable personality flaws, unsuitable for a commissioned officer," Mary answered, scratched the back of her neck, and shrugged easily as if the assessment did not bother her. "Some folks just take things too seriously."

OK. Now L'Noryn was triggered. Visibly angry. "This is a MASH unit, Doctor Roberts. We're tasked with handling high-volume amounts of patients for several days at a time with little rest... You ever see shrapnel and burn wounds from a plasma mortar? Try to give the patient pain relief, only to find that certain types of plasma-based weapons eat through skin and can kill and deaden blood vessels, so the patient screams in agony for hours-end because you're unit is out of lorazepam or any other form of sedative, which is the only way for the patient to feel no pain? One-step away from fatal meltdown radiation exposure, those wounds are."

"We're on a ship, Lieutenant. Chances of that happening are astronomical," Mary tried to console. Honestly, the Head Nurse was overreacting, in her opinion.

"Well, yes, I have seen burns from plasma weapons." Konrad took L'Noryn's words seriously. "They are very hard to work on. Those kind of wounds push your skills to the limit. We were lucky though. We never ran out of sedatives."

By the Prophets, I hope this nitwit warrant officer never shares my OR table, L'Noryn thought to herself before she addressed Mary. "Ground units have the most adverse situations to handle, as far as MASH units go. No warp core to power their base. A generator blows and they happen to be a frontline medical unit, they deal with what they have. They see and deal with things you need to prepare yourself for, Doctor Roberts, because if you get cut off from Potter, your medical unit will depend on your skills to keep patients in those conditions, alive... Can you perform under those conditions?"

Mary grew quiet. Never had she been made to feel like a first-grader in front of others. Now this nurse with a superiority complex did just that. Oh, Mary was for sure, going to get her revenge on L'Noryn.

"I don't know..." Mary finally answered, looking at her feet.

"And that is why you have a chief surgeon to guide you," L'Noryn looked back at Konrad with respect. "He's seen things you haven't. Knows things, you don't. Open your mind to beyond yourself and maybe he'll make a good neurosurgeon out of you yet."

"Well, I see you have a lot of work to do." Anjou motioned to the line of enlisted. "I'll be off to the bunkroom then to narcotics locker. I'll take the good surgeon here with me. Oh, and before I'm off that drink of wine still stands. I have several bottles from Earth I keep for special company."

"That's a No on alcohol, but I wouldn't mind having a hot cocoa with you," L'Noryn smiled. "Alcohol and I don't get along well."

"That's our cue to leave, Doctor Anjou," Mary snickered and whispered to him before walking further in the ship. "She likes you."

Konrad smiled at Mary. "She is a pretty girl." After a few seconds of walking, Konrad changed the subject. "Given the nature of what Star Fleet does, you will never be ready for anything. What I can tell you to do is keep up with your training and do your best even when you are overwhelmed. Your patients' lives will depend on it."

"Something tells me the Head Nurse is gonna ride me hard about it too," Mary nodded in agreement. "Think I may of wrong-footed our meeting... I do take my profession seriously, I assure you. And I will do any and all to be top in my field."

"I'm sure you will." Konrad agreed. "Please help me with the narcotic inventory? A good doctor always has an idea of what they have to work with."

Begrudgingly, Mary agreed. Her plans of hijinks would have to wait until things were less hectic. That, and she wanted to prove to everyone that there was more to her than what was perceived.

---

Lieutenant Konrad Anjou
Chief of Surgery, USS Sherman Potter

Warrant Officer Mary Roberts [NPC]
Surgeon, USS Sherman Potter

Lieutenant L'Noryn
Head Nurse, USS Sherman Potter

L'Noryn had been on the ship a while. One of the first - as was typical of medical support staff (nurses and corpsmen). While she knew the CO had arrived, there was just too much to do to see the ship ready. She had five corpsmen running around the ship cracking-open sealed emergency medical carts to see if the narcotics were expired. 15 nurses were checking disaster pods to see if they were properly stocked for any humanitarian aide missions.

Much of the grunt work of the medical field was done by the non-surgical nurses and corpsmen. L'Noryn herself was testing a mound of medical diagnostic and healing equipment from the main stores of the hospital. Sat on the floor with a medium-sized box of hyposprays in front of her, the head nurse loaded the hypospray with a clear vial in her hand and jabbed her right thigh with the concoction.

After a shake of her head and several blinks, L'Noryn ejected the vial, tossed the hypo into a large box that read, "Working," and proceeded to pick another hypo to test from the unsorted box.

Right as she finished testing what must have been a dud, L'Noryn heard the doors of the main entrance open. When she saw it was Pierce, L'Noryn quickly adjusted her shades, pulled the top part of her black scrub's down, and nodded respectfully to the newcomer.

"Potter received a whole bundle of medical supplies," L'Noryn noted apologetically. "But not all of it is brand new, and this ship's been in moth-dock so long, I doubt we're fully ready. So the medical support staff that arrived with the first wave - like me - are making sure nothing's out-of-date, and we meet all mission statements we qualify for."

By the way L'Noryn was fast-talking, one might think she was on too much caffeine, when in fact, it was a harmless sugar-high.

"And let me guess," replied Pierce with a grin as he strolled casually closer to the nurse. "Instead of saline, you're using glucose to test the hypos?"

"Got it in 1," L'Noryn laughed and pat a spot in the floor beside her. "Wanna help? Only got about 6-dozen more to sift through. About 2 in 87 ends up being faulty."

Wordlessly, Pierce peered though a couple of boxes until he found a beaker and a box of latex gloves. He pulled one of the gloves over the beaker and handed it to the nurse. “This will achieve the same ends and you won’t have to put yourself in a diabetic coma for it,” he said. “I’d rather not have to resuscitate one of my nurses so soon.”

"Deltans have a higher tolerance for glucose," L'Noryn reminded him but was quick to concede to his concern. "You have a fair point, though... Too much sugar and I'll be crawling the walls for hours."

The nurse smiled at Pierce, joyful and happy. "I'm L'Noryn. Head Nurse, and possibly your only Flight Nurse rated for emergency shuttle care... I hope we have wyverns. Pretty easy to mod them for ambulatory transports, when transporters are not applicable."

“Nice to meet you, L’Noryn,” replied Pierce as he sat across from her on the floor, a second beaker-and-globe in his hand. “I’m Captain Pierce Hunnicutt. Since I’m not technically the Captain yet, you can call me Pierce and I won’t be offended.” He took a hypo and loaded a cartridge into it. “Have you got a pile of bad ones started?” he asked, pressing the hypo to the glove and depressing the button; liquid squirted satisfactorily into the beaker.

L'Noryn pointed to the discard box at his left before she tossed another good hypo into a larger box. "I know this MASH project is new to Starfleet, but I served in marine units a good bulk of my career - mostly their Starfighter bases... Not a lot of Starfleet medical personnel have been tested in the adverse conditions that come with mobile ground units."

The half-Deltan looked at Pierce while she grabbed a new hypo to test, gauging him, wondering if her experience alone was why Starfleet Medical pulled this duty for her.

"Marines!" exclaimed Pierce, tossing the hypo into the "good" box and choosing another. "That should certainly come in handy. We might use you to help train the rest of the doctors in combat. They're going to need all the help they can get."

"We need to set-up mock mass-casualty drills if you mean combat medicine... Maybe 1 a week until our first unit evaluation," L'Noryn suggested as she tried another hypo on herself and shook her head. She forgot they were using the beaker. "...Starfleet will give us three months before that first eval, since we're a new unit. And we need to hit an 85% success-rate as a bare minimum to pass. Most of these people don't know combat trauma or the toll it takes physically and mentally."

"You're probably right," agreed Pierce. "I know most of them have been going through training already, but as a team, we could use the practice. I'll get security to contact you when they're ready to start the drills. Which should be soon. I think the rest of the crew is due to arrive in the next few days. We should start as soon as possible."

"Do we want to train in the holodeck for ground medical post scenarios as well, or is it unlikely we'll set up shop on a surface?" L'Noryn asked as she tossed another good hypo into the Keep box.

"It's probably pretty likely," Pierce replied. "It might not be a bad idea, but it'll be mostly set up and tear down practice as everything else will be the same."

"I can teach the doctors and green nurses," L'Noryn agreed as loaded a new hypo, then tested the device on the beaker. "Triage is something they know, but triage based on resource allocation will likely be something many of them with fight morally with until it becomes a reality."

Pierce nodded somberly for once in his life. "They always do," he said. "Let's hope it never comes to that."

"Which reminds me..." The Head Nurse stood up and walked over to the med station and pulled a PADD from it, then handed it to Pierce. He was the first of the command staff to arrive - that she knew of. "...This is all the personnel that reported in the last few days ago."

Pierce accepted the PADD and scrolled through it casually. "Wow!" he said, looking at the names. "This must be at least two-thirds of the crew. I didn't expect this many."

"It is protocol new MASH units push the medical support crew arrivals first, along with a few medical officers," she reminded him before she sat back down and grabbed another hypo. "Until room assignments are in, the officers - including 1 warrant - has been using the on-call room to bunk... What do you see from a Head Nurse, Sir? Some units use nurses as glorified orderly. I can only hope that isn't the case here."

"Oh, goodness no!" exclaimed Pierce, setting the PADD aside and continuing with testing the hypos. "I don't know any doctor alive who can set up upwards of 15 hypo-drips, keep them all full, and not mix anything up. And plus, we tend to be cold and clinical. We need nurses to care about the patients. You're our carers- you care so we don't have to."

L'Noryn felt very satisfied. Then she loaded her current hypo and popped the glucose into the beaker. "Doesn't look like we have too many diamonds in the rough - Doctor Roberts is fresh from med school though. Not a lot of personnel with Level 1 trauma assignments on their jackets. Though we do have a doctor with a highly-redacted assignment billet log."

"Do we?" asked Pierce, only half interested. "Intelligence, maybe?"

"Or Rapid-Response Team," L'Noryn agreed, dropped another good hypo in the Keep box, and reached for another. "...It's also not recommended we force the doctors and nurses in combat training, Sir. Most cultures ignore medics who don't carry weapons and are marked as medics."

"Theoretically, but we’re going somewhere where the natives probably don’t know what a medic is, much less how to recognize one,” Pierce pointed out. “Plus, basic combat training was listed as a requirement for signing on to this mission, just like basic EMT training is required for all support staff. They’re all expecting to have to do it.”

"I will give optional, advanced field combat training," L'Noryn conceded. "But Federation and Starfleet Regulations allow medics not to carry weapons if it is against their cultural or religious beliefs. Even an order from you, cannot force a conscientious objector from carrying firearms... I won't force the issue on someone that'll just argue and waste everyone else's time."

"Fair enough, though I don't think they'll argue," he replied, testing another hypo and adding it to the good bin. "They've all been fully briefed. But, if any of them refuse to learn any more than basic self-defense, we won't push it."

"Can force another role on them, if they have to pull a patrol," L'Noryn thought aloud. "But unless we're split up and assigned to various Security or Marine platoons, MASH units don't really do patrols... Medevac shuttles are likely where the danger lies if an evac shuttle gets shot down. And to my knowledge, I'm the only nurse or doctor on the current roster that's trained in flight crew operations."

“You might be right,” answered Pierce. “I haven’t read the roster in detail, but I don’t remember seeing many flight rated anybody on there. But no, no patrols. After all, we’re confined to a ship. And we have a security detail, so they can handle anything if- when- we have to go planet side.”

"Anyone that's checked in so far, I've pulled their jackets," L'Noryn admitted. "I want to match the right nurses to the right surgeons... So helps to know who's trained in what."

"Also a great idea," agreed Pierce. "I never understood why having a great head nurse was so important until just now." He paused to grin at her. "I guess that means I've never had a great head nurse before, eh?"

"Not many nurses attain doctorates in our field either," L'Noryn admitted. "...Passed up a promotion few years back, just to keep my wings - Not a lot of flight nurses or flight surgeons. And the role they perform on hoppers and medical shuttles is so important, that taking a cushy job to hospital admin just really felt like the wrong choice. I need to be where the wounded are."

"I know the feeling," said Pierce. "They made me an XO and I hated it. I'm glad to be able to get back into surgery where I belong." Another hypo went into the junk bin. "I mean, sure, I'm the Captain, but I get to get my hands dirty now and then. It's a fair trade."

"I was told I'd be part of one of the shuttle crews here on occasion, as well." L'Noryn placed another good hypo into the Keep Box and palmed for another. "I'm up for a promotion review in the next six months... If it means I lose my slot here, I don't want it. I've a feeling this is where I'm supposed to be."

He gave her a grin. "That's the kind of attitude I want around here," he said. "Last hypo!" he announced, picking it up. He loaded the cartridge and pressed it to the glove covered beaker. "Another good one. Want me to take the bad ones down to engineering for repair or do you want to do it?"

"If you're headed there already, sure. If not, I don't mind," L'Noryn responded in kind, then gradually stood up to stretch her legs.

"I'll let you take them," answered Pierce. "I still have other crew to meet. On second thought, you go be the captain today and I'll take the hypos," he joked.

"If we get a course plot into a sun, it's not my fault," L'Noryn joked in return before she took the Keep box. "I'll go store these... Nice meeting you Sir."

"Nice meeting you, too, Lieutenant."

L'Noryn smiled once more and returned to the supply closet to store the hypos.

There were loud sounds of things falling over and a female swearing in an alien language emitting from the on-call room. Then an audible exasperated tone followed:

"Where is it?!" L'Noryn had gone to get a shower, after testing the med beds on the medical hoppers. Her bracelet was on her bunk. She knew it. Now? It was missing. And she had a pretty good idea who took it, and why.

Rather than let the twit know she'd gotten under the half-Deltan's skin, L'Noryn instead was losing her mind trying to find it without any help. Which now resulted in searching Mary Robert's rack. Wearing only a towel to boot.

Theo had been 'stretching his legs' which was a cover story for walking about the ship to try and pretend this whole shipboard mission stuff didn't make him feel really nervous. He stopped immediately when he heard cursing, backtracked a few steps and heard someone utter a self-appointed question.

"You okay in there?" Theo asked as he stepped into the room and did a classic double-take at the pretty half-naked lady with the bald head. "Need a hand?" He added, a little more boldly.

"My hormone suppressant bracelet is missing," L'Noryn stated matter-of-factly. "Left it on my rack to take a shower, only now it's gone. Didn't fall on the floor. Not under my rack. So someone took it."

L'Noryn gestured to a bunk beside hers, with bags emptied on top of it. "Doesn't seem the bitch took it, but I know she did. Just a matter of figuring out where."

Hormone suppressant? That was interesting, Theo considered, but instead of asking the obvious personal question outright, he nodded. "Okay, well, maybe someone did take it, but we can't be sure of that..." He paused. She sounded pretty damn sure and was apparently already implicating a specific individual.

"Uh... are you saying you've just gone through someone else's bags?" Theo asked, sounding horrified at this revelation.

"Senior Officer's privilege," L'Noryn reminded him. "I'm L'Noryn. Your Head Nurse... And Doctor Mary Roberts is a warrant officer and part of the surgical staff. I checked her file after our first meeting. Colorful record of infractions, specializing in pranks. So yes, I'm validated in searching - but it's not here, so she either has it on her or stashed it elsewhere."

With the fast rate of speech and the small perspiration on her head, it was clear that L'Noryn might be having a bit of a panic attack. With a forced deep breath, the woman attempted to calm down before she went back to her rack. Then she pulled a fresh pair of black scrubs from her bag. She dropped her towel and proceeded to dress as if this were a perfectly normal co-ed situation.

"Okay, L'Noryn, Head Nurse." He could perhaps have been excused for not recognizing her rank, but Theo opted for politeness rather than overt sarcasm. "I'll believe you regarding rank," he said with a wry smile. "The towel told me a lot about you, but not that."

"Theo Hunnicutt, DMA," he introduced himself, noting as he did so that L'Noryn seemed very agitated indeed. "Are you okay? Was it a special... WOA!"

Theo stepped back and closed... one eye... as the towel hit the floor and revealed a lot more of the Head Nurse than he had expected to see this early into their relationship. Still, he couldn't help but take in the rather wonderful sight of those pale curves.

"Clearly you've not been in marine units," L'Noryn smiled, forgetting her worry if only for a moment. "Co-ed bunks - exceptions for people with special habitat needs, of course."

"That obvious huh?" Theo returned, not blushing but gifting L'Noryn a shy smile. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen a naked body a few million times before, just that this one had been unexpectedly forward in her unrobing. "Nah," He admitted as the nurse dressed before him. "I've just finished my surgical residency, this is my first real mission."

L'Noryn nodded as she pulled her boy briefs on and tank top, signaling that she understood. Then she finished pulling her scrubs on and tapped her wrist. "It regulates my estrogen output... Deltans are broadcast-based telepaths, so broadcasting my feelings to open minds can muddle the emotions and feelings of others. And since I was not raised among other Deltans, I was not trained properly in some of my people's mental disciplines. The bracelet prevents pineapple incidents from occurring."

As she explained, Theo nodded sagely. He was aware of Deltans, but he hadn't met many of them yet and he definitely hadn't encountered one who'd needed a bracelet. "Ah, understood," he said. "So definitely kinda important we find it then. No problem, and I'll help you look. Let's start with this Dr Roberts."

"She's almost like that bored ADHD kid... Destructive unless you give her something interesting to do," L'Noryn explained. "So.... I sent her to the medical labs to test the cardio stimulators on bad melons."

"Okay..." Theo didn't really want to justify this unproven opinion, but he didn't know Dr Roberts any better than he knew L'Noryn, so he couldn't dispute it either. A firm nod. "Well, at least we know where she is, then."

He stood by the door, then turned back to face L'Noryn. "Pineapple incidents?" He asked, curious.

How to explain it... L'Noryn reached for her Flight Nurse wings/combadge and placed it on her scrubs as she stalled awkwardly for more time.

"Enterprise-D encountered a ship once with people frozen where they were. Coming in tactile contact of that crew resulted in...." L'Noryn drifted off a bit, visually flush to have to explain it. "Well... people got overly frisky - That's what you call a Pineapple Incident. And we don't want that here if I can't find my bracelet, agreed?"

She blushed, which was interesting, given the fact that getting instantly naked in front of a complete stranger hadn't phased her in the slightest. "Ah," said Theo, with a follow-up chuckle. "Gotcha." He couldn't help but watch the woman move, drawn by that certain something - pineapples? He grinned. "Yeah, we probably should avoid that if we can, I guess."

L'Noryn reached for her labcoat, hanging by the door with peoples' jackets and coats. The high-pocket of her white jacket read:

Lieutenant L'Noryn, A.R.N.P
Flight Nurse, 4077

"...Thanks for helping - or in the least, talking," L'Noryn paused to look upon him. She finally slowed enough to process everything, which her glances caused further flush and a hint of anxiety behind it. It was nerve-racking to fight her body's natural reactions to people she thought was rather... gifted.

And Theo was right there. Almost face to face as she buttoned her waist-length labcoat. By the gods, he smells good!

L'Noryn grew more flushed with that thought, and her heart rate started to rise with the next wave of panic. She bit her lower lip to think of everything but that.

Leaning on the doorframe, Theo canted his head to the side and listened to L'Noryn answer his question. He noted the jacket and felt a little surge of pride at the designation - 4077 - his father's command. As he looked up though, the head nurse was blushing again, and Theo internally kicked himself. Hormone suppressant. Pineapple incident. Dumbass.

"Oh, I'm definitely helping," Theo said, stepping out into the corridor and giving L'Noryn a little space in which to breathe. "Emergencies are my specialty," he added with a smile as his conscience nagged him. "C'mon, let's head to the med-labs before she runs out of melons...."

"Oh!" L'Noryn ran back into the room to retrieve her tinted, transparent shades and quickly returned. Once she placed them on her face she nodded in agreement, "Right... Though if I'm right in my diagnosis, she may as well replicate more melons to make a mess with."

What he would look like naked in a hot tu - L'Noryn had to draw blood on her tongue to stop that train in its tracks. Instead, she decided to talk about him. "So which department are you assigned to?"

He waited while L'Noryn ducked back in for something - tinted glasses? - and Theo tilted his head to the side, curious for the reason she needed them indoors. He asked without overthinking it. "Eye trauma?"

L'Noryn chose not to answer immediately, mostly because she was busy sucking the blood that seeped from her tongue, which caused a bit of a pucker expression.

She made a funny face, that made him wrinkle his nose in reaction, then L'Noryn asked her own question. Theo smiled. "Aerospace Rescue Detachment," he answered honestly. "I'm the Medical Advisor, but I'm qualified to get stuck in there as needed. That's the part I really enjoy, being part of a small team, doing the 'impossible'." A light shrug and he looked to L'Noryn as they walked. The image of her naked form persisted happily in his mind's eye, ignoring the uniform for a moment.

L'Noryn nodded in agreement. She too preferred to be in smaller units. Thus she was with the Marines for so long. Once the seepage stopped, she tapped her shades.

"Ground bases in warzones don't have a lot of specialists - and being a medic in those units are far more dangerous than any posting the fleet itself has to offer," L'Noryn explained as they turned right and headed down a long corridor of labs. "You pull my jacket, you'll see a Purple Heart and a Combat Action Ribbon. So I've been in the thick of it, trying to save lives and medevac my Marine pals. Twas exploding shrapnel to the side of my head that caused the concussion..."

There was a momentary pause. As if she were trying to compartmentalize her feelings so as not to come face to face with that trauma and horror again. "...We had a battalion med post but none were neurosurgeons. They did what they could to stabilize and transport me to Starfleet Medical. But by then, there was too much scarring on the brain. Light sensitivity is a side-effect."

As they walked ever closer to the lab where their main suspect was working, Theo listened to every word leaving L'Noryn's mouth, his expression now deadly serious. The most dangerous situation he'd been in, combat wise, had not been as a Starfleet Officer, and it had not been on the ground. But during his surgical residency, he'd helped those who had fought in many different accidents, incidents and battles. It wasn't nearly the same as being in the thick of it alongside them though.

"Hell, yeah, it's dangerous," Theo agreed, solemnly. "You were lucky to keep your sight," he added. "And those Marines were damn fortunate to have you with them. You have my deepest respect for your service."

"Speaking of neurosurgeons..." L'Noryn stopped at one of the labs just in time to hear a loud pop and then wet, sloshing sounds hit the walls from inside. "We're here."

"Sweet!" Came an excited female's voice from beyond the door, and then a joyous laugh.

"I almost feel like I rewarded her with this detail, rather than punish her," L'Noryn frowned before she opened the door.

"Yeah..." Theo noted with a confused frown. "It really doesn't sound like she's enduring a punishment in there..."

That was when another high-pitched sound of a cardio-stimulator was triggered and exploded watermelon and cantaloup all over Theo and L'Noryn. Apparently Mary had perfected simultaneous melon explosions.

And then there was orangey wet pulpy flesh all over him, sticky, gloopy previously edible mess. Theo's face scrunched up as he lifted his arms and shook them free of the majority of sludgy fruit bits. He wiped a hand across his shirt back to clean it and reached up to wipe L'Noryn's glasses clear.

"Dr Roberts!" Theo called loudly then as he stepped fully into the lab. "Stop what you're doing, right NOW!"

At that same moment, L'Noryn blindly adjusted the lights to a dimmer setting while Theo cleaned her glasses, and then the half-Deltan tried to ignore the putrid smell of rotted watermelon which caused her nose to burn.

Mary could only laugh. The head nurse and the good doctor were unintended targets, and so it was hard for her to keep a straight face with the two of them covered in slimy red/orange fruit innards.

"On the plus side, all of the stimulators work," Mary smiled as she attempted to cut the tension.

"You make it hard for people to like you," L'Noryn finally spoke. Calm, cold, and with a hint of annoyance. "Bracelet. Now."

"You don't need it," Mary spoke as if it were a fact everyone in the room knew. "Deltans don't have the same problem as Orion females do... It's all in your -"

"Finish that statement," L'Noryn interrupted with a slightly higher-pitched tone, "...Doctor Roberts, and I'll make sure your medical kapers for the next month will be as Hygiene Officer."

"Ok. Shutting up," Mary spoke with a hyper-active nod - and like an ADHD child who could not keep their mouth shut, she jittered so bad from withholding information that she was ready to burst. Thus she turned to Theo. " -But she really doesn't need it. Her medical file states she got it while going through puber -"

There was a loud slap that interrupted the human woman. Never had L'Noryn been driven to violence. Yet now she had. In a blink of an eye too. Never had she felt so violated and exposed and helpless to stop this personal invasion. Words just could not come out of her mouth, the half-Deltan was that angry and appalled.

Mary appeared equally shocked and rubbed the red handprint now on her right cheek. She only meant to make a point, but the human female likely misdiagnosed the outcome. Maybe it was her approach? A customer satisfaction survey was likely not the right course of action, given L'Noryn's sudden violent outburst.

"...I'll let you handle it, Lieutenant." The Head Nurse just shook her head in disbelief and shame at herself before she left the room and waited outside the cracked door.

Being covered in manky melon guts was definitely not the nastiest thing that had ever happened to Theo, and, had it not been for L'Noryn's embarrassment at the whole bracelet affair, he might have laughed it off too. Unfortunately, given the entirety of their situation and his rank, it wasn't that easy a fix.

"Dr Roberts," Theo said, his voice firm and confident. "I can see that you find this whole matter utterly hilarious, but I don't consider publically humiliating a senior officer to be a laughing matter. I also have a big problem with theft." He leveled a serious look at the woman before him and held out his hand, palm upwards.

"Since you haven't denied taking the Lieutenant's bracelet, I strongly suggest you hand it over, right now." Theo raised an eyebrow and intensified his expression. "That's an order." He paused, waiting for a pithy comeback or compliance. He also internally reminded himself that L'Noryn needed to be told that slapping colleagues across the face was definitely not on his list of favourite behaviours either. But... one battle at a time.

"I borrowed it," Mary corrected with a guilty tone. "I wanted to help her but Nurse L'Noryn can't see beyond my personality flaws to realize I genuinely want to help her."

Mary pulled the bracelet from her back pocket and handed it to the other doctor. "I never meant to push her this hard... was just trying to get her to see that she's in full control of her hormones... I'm sorry for disrespecting her, Sir."

"Borrowed without permission," Theo made a point of making that correction as he took the bracelet back and gave a small sigh.

"Wanting to help is commendable behaviour, Dr Roberts," he noted, with a wrinkle of his nose. "But your great amusement at L'Noryn's discomfort suggests less of a helpful vibe and more of a prank," he pointed out. Then he raised an eyebrow and changed to a more optimistic tone. "Perhaps, if you really want to help, you and I can find a more constructive way to do so?"

"Fairly sure I blew any trust she has in me, if she were looking for a physician or second opinion," Mary conceded. "I can set aside time for you and me to consult if she would prefer not to be around me."

There was an audible huff and displeased grunt outside the door, though closer to the deck plate. Likely L'Noryn was sitting down and brooding.

Theo nodded gently and regarded the Warrant Officer with an even gaze. "Any consultation would involve all three of us at this point." He noted seriously, then his tone lightened a tiny bit. "I accept your apology, and - physical response aside - I think you owe your colleague a sincere apology too."

Mary cast an apprehensive look at the door. L'Noryn heard everything, most likely. The human doctor supposed a face-to-face apology was still needed.

"I will, I promise... Though I guess if I were her, I'd of slapped myself too." Mary motioned to the door. "After cooler heads are better prepared, I'll talk to her." -And I need to research and find out what L'Noryn likes so I can crawl my way out of the doghouse real fast.

"Maybe you did deserve it," Theo said, well aware that L'Noryn could hear. He opened the door so as to actively include the three of them at this point. "But slapping staff isn't an appropriate reprimand either. And you'll apologise now," he added. "Anything else you wish to discuss, you can do with cooler heads." He stepped into the corridor and reached out a hand to the seated head nurse, offering her a way up with some dignity. "C'mon," Theo said. "We're going to take a stroll and get something to eat, clear our heads some."

"It was unprofessional of me to strike a subordinate. I am a department head, I set the example, and my act of violence was anything but that..." L'Noryn spoke quietly and out of view of Mary, then took his hand to stand. "...Even if you meant well, Doctor Roberts, you violated my privacy by going into my medical files without my consent."

L'Noryn paused a moment, sniffed, and tried desperately to grasp for a calm center. Mary stuck her head out the door to see the half-Deltan at that moment. Somehow Mary thought a screaming, maddened Head Nurse would be easier to swallow than a disappointed, upset victim of a prank.

"A moment of passion," Mary shrugged. "And I am sorry for stirring something I had no right to."

"Clean the lab and we'll reset. Be in my office tomorrow morning, first thing," L'Noryn pushed through and sniffed her runny nose once more.

Mary turned to look back at the lab... Which looked like an E4 tornado struck it. That, or splattered guts from a zombie apocalypse attack. "Yes Ma'am."

L'Noryn nodded her head thankfully to Theo and mouthed the sentiment to him once Mary darted back inside the lab.

Ever the gentleman, Theo handed L'Noryn a handkerchief and offered her a small smile in consolation. He'd let the two of them speak without interruption as their verbal exchange had been calmer this time, both of them hopefully realising the errors made in the heat of the moment. "You okay?" He asked quietly, ducking his head down to meet her eyes, just checking. "Want to get something to eat or drink, or just chat some?" Emotions had clearly run high, whether that was because of L'Noryn's heritage or the temporary lack of her bracelet, Theo had no idea, but he offered unconditional support regardless.

"I'm not OK," L'Noryn admitted, quietly as she thought about eating. "But I will be after a bite, yes."

The half-Deltan grew more relaxed as she placed the bracelet back on her wrist and walked further away from the lab. "...Maybe she's just anxious to do a good job - as most newly minted doctors tend to be and wrong-footed her dismount. I just assume not linger too much on it for now. Bracelet is back. That's all that matters."

"Understood," said Theo, his tone soft. "C'mon, then. I'm hungry too." He didn't miss the quick bracelet replacement or the subtle differences in her body language as L'Noryn's tension eased a little while they walked. "Maybe..." he said, sounding less sure of that. "Or perhaps she's just one of those people who wants to fix everybody's issues." Theo smiled, warmly. "Y'know, like most of us here, I think we all want to fix people, right? Not a bad thing, but she went about it in completely the wrong way."

L'Noryn cleaned the grime off her face with the borrowed handkerchief as she listened. "Let's hope it is just that... Time will tell."

"Yes ma'am," Theo agreed with a smile, and he took the hint to change the subject. "Bracelet working okay?"

"I think it is," L'Noryn guessed with an innocuous shrug. Next time her estrogen raised to a high level her bracelet should hiss and blink a blue light. But at the moment, sexual chemistry with another person was far from her focus and she really was not keen to test it. "...I'll run scans on it after I get back to the on-call room. I need to pack and move to my actual room anyway - now that the CO posted the final billet assignments. Food first though."

The Deltan turned her head and smiled at him. Genuine, relaxed.

That was good to see, a real smile born from a happier calm. Theo grinned back. "Good stuff," he said. He listened to L'Noryn talk, understanding now why she'd been in the on-call room. "Be happy to help if you need it," he offered, though he suspected she, like most of Starfleet, travelled light. Theo's own gear had all come in a duffel bag, but he'd been used to that from an early age. "I unpacked already," he half-explained. "But yeah, definitely. Food first!" His belly rumbled on cue.

"Could go for a hot dog..." L'Noryn agreed as her eyes darted to Theo's waist.

Her bracelet, as if on-cue, hissed to the sound of medication being pumped into L'Noryn's bloodstream.

Pierce had glanced through the personnel files for the Sherman Potter the previous day and was surprised and utterly delighted to see the name Dr. Theodore Hunnicutt on the list. His son was going to be serving aboard his ship! It would be the first time since Theo was fifteen that the two had been on the same ship.

Though the two had kept in close contact over the years, Pierce knew he had still missed a lot. He also knew there was no such thing as making up for lost time, but he still wanted to spend as much time with Theo as was possible and that Theo would allow. No smothering, but definite father/son time was in order.

And now he stood in the transporter room, awaiting his son’s arrival. The transport officer on duty gave the signal just before the transporters whirred to life and three officers appeared on the platform. Upon seeing their captain standing there, two of them hesitated, but Pierce waved them off; this was not an official visit and they were free to continue on their way. To the third, however, he gave a huge grin. “Welcome to the Sherman Potter, Doctor Hunnicutt,” he said.

For a second it looked as if the new arrival would simply stand there, frozen in time and serious as hell. Theo couldn't keep that expression up any longer than it took the ship's captain to dismiss the other two officers, though, and at the elder man's smile, he broke.

The duffel bag Theo carried swung from side to side across his back as he closed the distance between them at a sprint, then he stopped immediately in front of said captain, saluted, but utterly failed to hide his own happiness.

"Permission to hug, sir?" Theo said, maintaining the merest hint of proper decorum out of respect for his father's new position.

Pierce threw his arms wide. “Permission granted,” he replied, grin stretching even wider.

Theo leant into that hug and savoured every second of the steady, familial support as he hugged back as hard as he could. The contact served two purposes for the younger Hunnicutt - it helped to steady his wobbly legs which were a little uncertain on the deck of the ship, and it also revealed the swift beat of his heart as it thudded against his father's chest.

“It’s good to see you again,” said Pierce, not missing the wobbly legs and heavy heartbeat. “How are you? You doing all right?” he asked as he pulled away, keeping his tone light, but giving his son a significant look.

"Really great to see you too, Dad," Theo returned warmly and with obvious enthusiasm. He ducked his head down as if catching his breath and came back up to briefly note the presence of the transport officer and then offer a pretty decent fake smile to the ship's captain. "I'm good," he promised. "Just excited to be here." He firmly slapped his dad's shoulder. "You alright?"

Pierce’s grin widened yet again. “I’m fantastic!” he replied. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

It really was good to see his father looking happy, healthy and in literal command of the situation. Theo's eyes were bright with that emotion as he walked alongside the new Captain, and he focused entirely on the elder Hunnicutt as they strode together through the corridors of the hospital ship. "I'm really proud of you, Dad," Theo noted for the record. "Did you upset someone or make someone proud this time?" He asked, deflecting attention effortlessly.

"Both, I think," answered Pierce, slinging one arm around his son's shoulders as they walked. "Admiral Pauly was in charge of picking the command team, so maybe he upset someone."

Theo chuckled, grounded somewhat by the close presence of his father. "Or, y'know, maybe they figured this was the furthest away from everyone they could possibly get you?" He teased. Then his voice dipped into reverential tones for a moment as he spoke again. "Mom would say this was an illustrious honor," Theo said. "Recognition of all your great work." The grin returned briefly, hiding other emotions just beneath the surface. "But she'd probably also accuse you of being a suck-up or offering bribes," he joked. "Y'know, just to keep your ego in check."

Pierce chuckled almost wistfully. "Yeah, she would," he agreed. "I fully expect, if it hadn't been for her, I'd probably have gotten a big head. Being called 'Starfleet's Best Surgeon' is enough to inflate any man."

"Oh?" Theo canted his head to the side and regarded his father with intrigued amusement. "And who calls you that?"

"Well, mostly me," replied Pierce. "Somebody had to say it, after all."

The younger Hunnicutt laughed and nodded. "That I believe, Dad," he added. Their conversation pushed his nervous energy deeper down so that it was just a flicker in his belly, almost intangible for now. "But - making Captain - that has to be a danger to your hat collection, right?"

"Sure," agreed Pierce. "But, then I get to go down to surgery where I take orders from a Lieutenant. It all balances out."

Here Theo was bias, while he hadn't worked directly with or for his dad before, he'd always regarded his father as one of the surgical greats. "I can't imagine anyone telling you how to operate," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I still remember that look people would give you when I was a kid. Just, y'know, kinda awestruck. Back then I figured most of what you did was just pure magic," he added with a nostalgic smile.

“Just call me Harry Potter,” replied Pierce. “”I always thought that look was more dumbfounded than awestruck. Or maybe astonishment that anybody like me actually made it through medical school.”

"Modesty doesn't become you, Harry," said Theo, playing it deadpan for a second. "Thanks for letting me come along for the ride," he continued, looking momentarily anxious then swiftly burying said emotion deeper and forcing a smile through his frown as he asked. "Dad. This Project Long Jump. It's safe, right?"

“They sent a whole station through in three sections,” Pierce replied. “They didn’t report any casualties. Oh! Which reminds me- there were reports of nausea and vomiting. One report suggested that a 12 hour fast seemed to curb that. It’s all in the ‘coming aboard’ report you should have already gotten.”

Oh he'd read it. Cover to cover, three times, small print and everything. And it sounded horrific. More so than normal space-travel by far. But when one's only remaining parent was hurling themselves beyond the Galactic Barrier, it prompted more than a mere goodbye from a safe dock back home. Theo pushed through that silent moment of underlying fear and wrapped his own arm a little closer about his father. "No casualities," he confirmed quietly. "Okay. And the station's pieces all ended up in the same place?"

"Relatively," answered Pierce. "one of the modules went awry and the chief engineer had to lasso it and drag it back into place. It's actually a pretty spectacular story. The FNS reporter doesn't do it justice, though. You really have to read the official reports on the matter."

He could feel his pulse increasing as his father spoke. Modules going awry. Lassoing it?! Theo's shoulders raised and fell as his breathing sped up and he fought the underlying rising panic. WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! Crossed his mind, but he didn't say that.

"Sounds kinda terrifying," Theo admitted, trying to keep his tone light and amused while slowing his walking pace and internally pushing down that very real fear of the journey ahead. "Bet it makes good bedtime reading though," the flippancy in his tone was mildly undermined by the waver in Theo's voice. He looked from Pierce to the doors in the corridor and forced a smile. "Are we nearly there yet?" He asked. He needed a moment.

The shudders didn’t escape Pierce’s notice- how could they with his arm around his son?- and he turned to face Theo. “Hey,” he said. “They didn’t have engines on that module. We’ve got engines. Nobody’s gonna have to lasso us, even if we do go awry. Don’t sweat it, okay?”

Theo was definitely sweating it, but he knew this fear was unjustified. Others had been the test dummies for this run, others had made it safely over the barrier already, and they'd reported back.

"Sorry," the younger man said quietly, head bowed for a moment. "I didn't mean to..." Last time, he reminded himself, they'd been at war. This was very different. He didn't want to freak out, he wanted to be excited for this voyage, leave the demons behind him. It wasn't of course, quite that simple.

"I'm okay," Theo said, as he looked up. "Sorry Dad. I'll read the report, sure that'll make me feel safer. We have an engineer as good as that one?" He asked, trying to find security in the details.

"I sure hope so," answered Pierce, glancing around. "Oh, hey, we're right around the corner! Your quarters are just over here. Come on!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Theo couldn't help but grin. He picked up the pace to match Pierce's own until they stood outside the right door. His quarter's. On his father's ship. Theo took a moment just to fully absorb all of that, and then pressed the panel to allow them access inside. "Time for a quick coffee and, y'know, the guided tour?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For you, I have time for anything you'd like to do," answered Pierce, beaming at his son. He was really jazzed to have his son along and it showed.

Any fear and trepidation for that damn jump, vanished momentarily in the face of pure Hunnicutt happiness, and Theo drank in the wonder of now. He turned to gift his father the biggest, closest hug he'd given anyone since he was about 5 years old, then stepped back and mirrored that overt joy. "Awesome, Dad," Theo acknowledged. "Thanks!"

He dumped his duffel bag on the little sofa, ducked his head into the bedroom and checked the tiny bathroom quickly, just getting the lie of the land. The living space was small, of course, but more than enough for his needs.

Taking their coffee order from the replicator as it swiftly fulfilled Theo's spoken order, he handed one to Pierce and then walked over to look out at the starfield. "Dad, I hate to admit it," Theo confessed quietly to the porthole. "But I'm really nervous about this trip."

“I gotta be honest,” Pierce replied. “I am, too. It’s natural to be nervous. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been to another galaxy before. I’ve also never been slingshot or catapulted or trebucheted across the universe. It’s a frightening prospect. You just have to remind yourself that others have successfully done this before. We’re not the first.”

Theo didn't immediately turn around. He stared out at the star-studded darkness and tried to ignore the thought racing around in his brain. "Sure," he said, softly. "That's part of it. But... I've done plenty of things that could have killed me." Theo sighed, pursed his lips and forced himself to turn to face his father, to look him in the eyes as he spoke. He needed him to know just how much this mattered and his voice caught as he said the words out loud. "What I'm really scared of... Dad... is losing you."

Pierce set down his coffee mug and crossed slowly to his son. “I’d like to promise I won’t go anywhere, but we both know I can’t,” he said in a rare moment of solemnity. “And to be perfectly honest, my biggest fear has always been losing you. Ever since you were two minutes old!” He took a deep breath. “All we can do is enjoy each other’s company while we have it. And take lots of pictures to remember each other.” He gave his son a melancholy sort of grin.

As he drew closer, Theo studied his father's face. Every line, every wrinkle, those intelligent grey eyes and the signs that Pierce smiled more than he frowned. The younger man regretted not having been out here sooner, but he honestly didn't regret being here now. Here was exactly where he knew he should be. He wanted to not be responsible for that seriousness in his father's face and yet he'd needed to underlie their adventure with honesty.

"Y'know, you're right," Theo matched Pierce's soulful grin, switched to a sheepish look, and then nodded. He had no right or desire to steal his father's joy and this was the original boys' own adventure they were embarking on, first over the fence or not. "And as far as company goes, there's absolutely no one else alive I'd rather hop into a space trebuchet catapult with, Dad." He chuckled, then added. "Plus, y'know - Captain - you sure packed a serious amount of medical staff in here with us."

"Well, that's what happens in a hospital," replied Pierce with a grin. "Here's hoping most of them will be redundant. Did you know we have a Pediatric Orthopedic Surgeon? I'm not sure what difference there is between that and a regular Orthopedic Surgeon, but she's assigned here, so...." He shrugged. "Anyway, we'll be well taken care of. Never more than a few decks away from a specialist if we need one."

"I second you on the hoping for redundancy," Theo agreed. "And I'm sure the baby bone doctor could tell us," he smiled impishly. "Maybe one of us should invite her for a drink and ask?"

The younger Hunnicutt looked up to the older, an enigmatic expression on his face, mind more focused on the now than the distracting thoughts of back then.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get out here... to be on a ship with you again, Dad," Theo said, his gaze bright with hope now. "I just had to make sure I was good enough to be of some help." That was half a lie, but one made out of kindness as Theo beamed a genuinely happy and adoring smile. Today was all about Pierce Hunnicutt, and Theo wanted to be sure his father knew that. "It's really awesome to be here, under your fine, shiny new command. Soooo, how does it feel, Captain Hunnicutt - being in the big chair with all these specialists at your beck and call?"

"A bit surreal, actually," answered Pierce. "And oddly humbling. When you know all these lives are depended on your orders, it tends to knock you down a peg or two. Or ten!" He grinned again. "You get sort of cautious," he continued, slightly more serious. "Because now it's not just my life. I'm not just seeing that the Captain's orders are carried out, like when I was XO. No, now it's my orders. And I have to remember that so that I don't put too many lives in jeopardy." He sighed. "It's a heavy burden."

Theo nodded. "You've been responsible for big life-changing decisions before though," he said, not unkindly. "Had to make tough judgement calls, life and death decisions. Just not on this kinda scale. The only real difference I guess is that you're now making the choices for more people at a time. But I trust you, and I know one thing. You're honest, trustworthy and a good person. If you have to put lives in danger, it'll be for a damn good reason."

He rested a hand on his father's shoulder and half-smiled. "I know I'm not command staff," Theo said, "but I'll always be here for you, Dad. If my help and support can make a difference, I'll always listen, and I'll be honest."

“I hope you’ll be totally honest,” admitted Pierce. “I need to know if I’m being an asshole, you know.”

Theo's expression turned calmly serious. "Of course," he promised. "If you're giving me permission to tell you when you're being an asshole, Captain, I'll consider it to be my sworn duty. In private, though, obviously."

"Of course," agreed Pierce. "Well, as much as I don't want to, I have other crew to meet. But, hey! We can have dinner in the Captain's mess tonight. It feels so cool to invite someone rather than to be invited," he added.

"Okay." A brief moment of soulfulness for their parting passed swiftly then mutated into a big dumb grin as Theo radiated happiness. "Wow, really?" He asked, then skipped straight into overt excitement mode. "Never had an invite to the mess before," he admitted. "Count me one hundred percent in for that..."

Wonder took up residence as he stepped forward to give his father a close, familial hug. It had been way, way too long and Theo wanted all the time he could steal.

"Thanks, Dad," he said, quietly, tightening his long-armed grip for a brief moment as he spoke the words.

“Thank you!” replied Pierce, returning the hug. “It’s great time have you here.” After a moment, he reluctantly let go and backed towards the door. “Dinner! Don’t forget!” he added, and was gone.

Project Long Jump: basically, stuffing a ship into an oversized potato cannon and shooting it to another galaxy.

But, Captain Pierce Hunnicutt tried not to think about that part. After all, he was the farthest thing from a potato and he'd like to think his ship was as well.

He had read all the reports and made recommendations to the crew. One very short report from Lieutenant Commander Mara Ricci, Chief Engineer of Canopus Station, indicated that a 12 hour fast prior to the jump should eliminate the nausea. Nausea didn't sound like fun to Pierce, so he had, of course, eaten nothing for 12 hours before the jump was completed. Low and behold, their arrival was sans nausea, but nothing, it would appear, could stop the splitting headache caused by the jump.

"Report!" he called, pressing his fingers to his skull.

"We... we... we've arrived!" The last word said by the young Tellarite at the helm was delivered with a mouthful of vomit. "'Scuse me, Captain, I --" To say it was projectile would be an understatement. Each time she gasped for air, it only seemed to fuel another gastrointestinal volley. "Oh, no! Gottdammitt!" The helm station was in dire need of disinfectant.

To nobody's real surprise, the helm console slid back about half an inch into its station and some sort of clear liquid ran across it automatically, washing it clean of all vomit. The liquid was followed by a stream of air accompanied by a blue light, which dried it quickly and then it raised back up into its place.

"Neat," commented Pierce. "Either you didn't fast, or fasting doesn't help Tellarites. Either way, we may be able to add to Chief Ricci's report."

"Is old Russian saying: is better out than in."

A bear-shaped man in a Starfleet uniform stepped back from the rear display panels. Broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, with eyes hidden behind a pair of brassed rimmed spectacles, he looked like a Moscow thug who had wandered into the props department of a holo drama. Even his knuckles looked like they'd been given the once over by a makeup artist, adding scars upon scars.

"Speaking that of which, we have report from Task Force flagship. USS Palatine reports all ships have made the transist successfully," Arkady Sjet walked up to the main centre seat. "So far no one is shooting at us, so is good thing, yes?"

"Any day you're not shot at is a good day," agreed Pierce. "Have we got departmental reports yet? How's everyone fairing?"

"Sickbay is in order," L'Noryn spoke as she walked onto the bridge from the turbolift. She walked over to the XO and handed a PADD to him with a full list of supplies. The half-Deltan also appeared greener than normal but seemed to be doing well in fighting her nausea. "We have anti-motion-sickness drugs available in kits, found in every medical station aboard if anyone needs them."

"Otlichno." Arkady said as he walked past the two, putting a hand on the helmsman's shoulder. "Do you hear this? Is soon not be so sickly, is good thing not be yes?"

Sekhem shrugged his hand away. "Get your filthy meat-paw off me, you big, damned, dirty ape!" And then she barfed on his feet.

"I'm going to excuse that this time, Ensign Peth, but do try to respect the First Officer from here on out, okay?" Pierce added mildly, rubbing his temples.

Doctor Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov had fasted and therefore didn't have anything to puke, so after a brief period during which he was a bit concerned that his body might actually attempt to just vomit out his entire, mostly empty, alimentary tract, from his anus all the way up through his esophagus, the New Kossackian noble prince began to regain his senses.

"From your mouth to the Great Bird of the Galaxy's ears, Comrade Commander," he said. Alexei had been sitting at one of the empty work stations, just for the trip to Canopus, since he didn't have a regular work station on the Bridge.

“Now if we could just do something about these headaches, we could all be much happier,” added Pierce. “When you have a minute, nurse. No rush.” It was hard to tell if he was serious or sarcastic most of the time, so he attempted to make his voice as honest as possible. Headaches were nothing compared to nausea. Take care of the stomachs first and then the heads.

"Well as far as health checks go, I suppose I could do a quick once-over of the bridge," L'Noryn agreed before she pulled her tricorder from her labcoat. Several including herself were looking worse for wear. "Who here is suffering headaches related to the FTL jump just now?"

"Is no worse than Sunday morning in New Odessa. Fewer broken bottles, though perhaps more broken people," Arkady mused as he waved away the comment. "I am functional. Have had worse in War. Beside will fade. Will make for easier time if someone is around who can make sense of communicator when we are hailed."

"I'll take any pain killers you've got," Pierce said, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "I'm functional, too, but I could do with less pain."

Right... I should just start carrying my own medical bag, from now on. L'Noryn smiled briefly before she left the bridge for a moment, via toward the briefing room. From there, she pulled a kit from a wall cabinet and walked back into the bridge. "I can't give the hard stuff without final write-off from a doctor, so NSAIDs is the pain relief everyone's getting."

Technically L'Noryn could do far more, but like IDCs, she had to be the lone, senior medic to make those calls. Since so many doctors were about here, like all ARNPs, they needed final write-off approval on most regulated drugs and anything 'Surgical' related.

The Deltan loaded a hypo and tossed it to Pierce. "There ya are, Sir."

"Thanks," said Pierce, catching it easily and pressing it to his own neck.

"Bridge, this is Anjou in sickbay. We're loaded with reports of vomiting and headaches from all over the ship. I'm dispatching nurses and medtechs to the various departments. They'll triage crew there and send any severe cases our way." Anjou informed his command.

The turbolift doors opened to reveal a squat little figure in a full-body hazard suit. His face was obstructed by a shaded face mask. "A HAZMAT response was auto-flagged by the computer," he reported to Pierce, since he was in the command chair. "If you could please point me at the bio-hazardous material? There are dozens of incidents all over the ship, but protocol dictates we are respond to high-priority locales first."

"Perhaps is best for mop with bucket," Arkady grumbled. "Though at least we know internal sensors work well."

Cipher looked up at Arkady, then down at his shoes. Raising his hand, he sprayed a foaming disinfectant gel from a wrist-mounted nozzle from the floor around Arkady's feet clear to his knees. "Sanitation complete," Cipher said through his helmet.

Alexei chuckled. "The one great failing in any public health awareness campaign," he said. "The tendency for sentient beings to ignore everything we suggest!" Now that his stomach had settled, he retrieved a bottle of water and drank some, then ate a ration bar quickly, before moving to help check the Bridge Crew. "I suggest everyone drink something an eat a little." He turned to the Head Nurse. "I can sign off on any stronger medicines you might want to prescribe if need be. I'm more than just a pretty epidemiologist. Before studying epidemiology and infectious disease, I completed a dual residency in Adult and Pediatric Internal Medicine and I remain current in my qualifications."

"Thank you, Doctor," L'Noryn smiled as she loaded hypo with a green antinausea and walked over to Arkady, for which she hit him with 2CCs of the substance in the arm, marked it in a PADD to be placed in medical files later, and walked to the next patient on the bridge.

"Good idea," agreed Pierce, also grabbing a ration bar from one of the storage areas under the science console. "Double fudge brownie," he announced happily. "How'd we get so lucky?"

Sekhem turned toward Pierce. "Hey, I'm feeling better! Let me have --"

And then she projectile vomited all over Pierce.

"Was this all from just you?" Cipher asked, his incredulous voice reverberating through his face shield. "How much did you eat right before launch?"

"I ate all of it," Sekhem moaned with her hand to her stomach.

Cipher could only sigh. "You might want to cover your face, Captain," he said to Pierce by way of warning his spray nozzle upraised. Then, on second thought, he said, "Or maybe get down to decon. I'll have to follow you, though." He thrust a finger at Sekhem. "And you might want to relieve that one of duty."

"No argument here," the Tellarite said.

"Nurse, give her something for nausea," said Pierce, standing from the center seat. "And then you," he added, pointing to the Tellarite, "go lie down for awhile. I'm gonna go get hosed down. Or something." And he motioned Cipher to lead the way.

"After you, sir," Cipher said. "It's protocol." He prepared to sanitize the deck after Pierce's every step.

"On it," L'Noryn affirmed, as she was already loading the hypo. She walked up to the Tellarite and gently injected the ensign in the arm. "That should take the edge off, but you will want to drink some fluids before you lay down."

With a sigh, Pierce stepped onto the turbolift ahead of Cipher. It was turning out to be a heck of a day.

"I will stay here, keep ship from falling out of formation with rest of Task Force," Arkady said as he nodded to Pierce. "See you soon Captain."

Since there was nothing for him to do on the bridge, Alexei decided to go help out in Sickbay. However, he decided to wait until after Hunnicutt and Cipher left and then call another lift. The smell of Tellarite vomit on the bridge was bad enough. The New Kossackian noble prince didn't want to be trapped within the confines of a turbolift car with Hunnicutt's vomit covered boots.

---

Just like Cipher, Theo had been the recipient of multiple HAZMAT alarms that thunked against his head full of ache with uncomfortable regularity. Medic bag at his side, he’d attended the first call to find the somewhat inevitable puke and headache combo and an unhappy victim. Now Theo began following the chain of incidents across one deck while the Bynar covered the one from the bridge. He wanted to check in with his father, but resisted that need. If something was amiss with the Captain, it would be well in hand, and if there wasn’t, well Pierce Hunnicutt would be dealing with enough already. It faintly bothered the young man that, now the pain meds had kicked in for his own skull and despite the now multiple visits to vomit victims, he was still just so damn hungry.

"Hey, doc," came a voice from just behind him. Ensign Geoff Yaros of Engineering had been dispatched to manually check for problems. This consisted of wandering almost aimlessly around the deck, listening for people trapped in their quarters or some other weird scenario that almost never happened. "Want a ration bar? I've got a bunch. Chocolate almond crunch, strawberry oat, or lemon quinoa. Lemon quinoa is my favorite."

It was as if someone had heard his belly rumble across the floor, or, y'know, kinda secondguessed the whole 12 hours of starvation thing. Either way, Theo was way happier to hear the words 'chocolate' and 'ration bar' than he ever thought he'd be. "Hey man," he said, turning to greet the guy. "I'll take the choccy-almond crunch, please. Thanks. Happy to trade." He asked, with a smile. "Need any pain meds....?" He'd been about to add a name, but realized he didn't know it. "Sorry I don't know your name, Ensign. I'm Theo."

“Geoff,” replied the ensign, rummaging in his sack and producing the requested ration bar. “I figured at least half the ship would have done the fast- because who wants to vomit on arrival- and everyone would be hungry. So far, I’ve been right. I’m out looking for trapped crew. Haven’t found any, yet. And nothing seems to be malfunctioning. You notice anything the way you came?”

"Thanks, Geoff," Theo said, gratefully taking said snack and immediately unwrapping it. "Smart man," he complimented the ensign. "You'll go far." He ate the bar hungrily before speaking again, his lack of urgency foreshadowing his answer. "Nothing but puke and headaches so far," Theo noted. "But plenty of ship to search yet. C'mon, we'll continue on together." Never hurt to have company in uncertain times and mysterious new parts of the universe.

"Sounds like a plan," replied Geoff, now offering Theo a bottle of water. "I think some of the headache is dehydration. I was thirsty as a fish almost as soon as we came through. Wait... thirsty as... are fish thirsty?"

"Thanks man," he took the bottle of water and drank it down in long, contented gulps. Then Theo looked up and shook his head in answer to Geoff's question. "No," he said. "Not in the same sense we do. Osmosis and a plentiful supply of water for saltwater, but freshwater fish are more likely to overdilute if they're not careful." He smiled. "We should move, people are suffering," Theo noted, and looked down the corridor in the direction of voices.

"Lead the way," answered Geoff, motioning for Theo to take the lead.

Theo nodded purposefully, dropped the empty bottle in the nearest recycler and led the way to varying levels of dehydration, infestations of vomit and overly anxious crew members. It was, thankfully, a slow day in the realm of high-end emergencies, but that didn't stop him checking in with Cipher via the comm to see how things had gone on the bridge.

There was one thing left to do before Pierce shoved off for the night. And that was to meet the Chief of Surgery. On the occasions Pierce had to help out in Sick Bay, he would actually be working under the chief and as such, he wanted to know who was in charge. It would make it easier if they were already acquainted.

The surgery wards were a bustle of activity when he walked in and he glanced around for the man whose picture he had seen in the personnel files. Finally spotting him, he approached quickly. "Doctor Anjou," he said by way of greeting. "Captain Pierce Hunnicutt. I thought I'd come down and meet my boss."

"Hello Doctor Hunnicutt." Konrad cheerfully greeted Pierce. "Military structure isn't my forte but I think a captain outranks a lieutenant?"

"Of course," answered Hunnicutt with a grin. "But while I'm down here, you're in charge. Just think of me as another surgeon."

Konrad smiled, he was pleased that he had an commander that was willing to put his own ego in check. "Thank you Doctor. I hope that doesn't go to my head. Otherwise, instead of surgery I may pawn off some my paperwork to you."

"Nah, we'll get you a Yeoman," replied Pierce. "How's surgery coming along? Got everything you need?"

"Are you kidding? I feel like a Ferengi in a vault of gold. I have equipment in this surgery I thought were just legends in Star Fleet medical lore. Hat tip to the quartermaster that filled this surgery bay." Konrad answered.

"Really?" said Pierce in surprise. "Now this I gotta see. Care to give me a tour?"

"I would be delighted." Anjou replied.

He then waved Hunnicutt over to some black tiles. Placed in center of the tiles and spaced evenly apart were surgical beds.

"Take note of these tiles Doctor. What these do is create a miniature holodeck. With these, we can make a three dimensional view of the internal workings of a patient. We can bring up say, a damaged lung. We can take that lung and rotate it around in real time to find any injuries. Then, when we start to work on the lung, we can see our tools inside and any reactions." Anjou explained.

“Now that is something,” Pierce replied, gazing at the room. “I’ve heard of this, but never actually seen it. Fantastic! Now all we need is some patients.”

"If it weren't for patients, we'd have to get real jobs." Konrad smiled at Pierce. "I do have something else to show you. If you'll follow me?"

Konrad then led Pierce to a bank of five large, clear tubes. "These are stasis chambers. They can create a stasis field for seventy-two hours. Each will hold a patient in suspended animation, frozen in time if it were. That means we can study he patient and decided the best course of action. There are a couple of downsides. One is that we cannot work on a patient while they are in stasis. Two, the field is only guaranteed to last seventy-two hours, afterwards the field collapses. And third the field drains a lot of power. Still, despite the downsides, it will give our patient another seventy-two hours of life."

"But, it gives us time to figure out what to do for them," replied Pierce, nodding in approval. "I know we have one joined Trill on board. Tell me we've got a stasis pod for her symbiont that will last at least six months."

"I've never practiced on a symbiont. The thought of giving medical care to a dis joined symbiote both excites and terrifies me." Konrad joked.

"Well, if we need that stasis pod, you won't have to worry about working on the symbiont because we won't have a host to put it into," replied Pierce. "Still, she may bring one with her. A lot of joined Trill have taken to carrying one around just in case. But the idea of a disjoined symbiote terrifies me, much less having to give medical care to one."

Konrad nodded in agreement. Konrad was finding himself liking Pierce. "If you don't mind me asking Doctor, do you know where I can find a good game of cards? I find cards a nice way to relax."

"Not off the top of my head," Pierce replied. "But I'm willing to bet that at least half of the crew would be interested. That being said, if you find yourself one short, let me know. I'm pretty terrible at poker, but I play a mean game of Spoons."

"I too am not very good at poker. The only reason I keep getting invitations to play is because I pay my debts." Konrad explained to Pierce.

"Honest and the other players win credits," commented Pierce. "It's a win/win."

"Funny, after I lose a lot of money I don't feel like I won." Konrad mused in a friendly manner.

“Okay, so it’s a win win for everyone else,” Pierce conceded with a grin. “I’ll let you know if I hear about any card games. Right now, though, I’ve got more Captain-y stuff to do. Which is apparently code for reports and nosing around all the departments.”

"Thank you, Doctor. It was pleasant to meet you." Konrad replied before returning to his duties.

"Pleasure to meet you, too," replied Pierce. With that, he turned and head to the door to nose around all the departments like a good Captain.

OOC NOTE: Commander Arkady Sjet as Captain Benjamin Ingram of Canopus Station.

---

Captain Pierce Hunnicutt of the USS Sherman Potter still had a monster headache. The long jump had been completed nearly an hour ago and he’d had two doses of pain killers, but nothing seemed to help. He had even used a couple of old remedies- pinching the skin between thumb and forefinger and pressing on the base of the skull on either side of the spinal column- but still it persisted.

He felt like he was hung over except without any of the fun the previous night.

Oh well, if nothing could be done, he would just live with it for today. And so this is how he happened to be on his way to meet the station’s commanding officer, one Captain Benjamin Ingram. Doctor Ingram, he reminded himself. Although he was acting as the station’s captain, those with The degrees to back it up liked to be called doctor. Pierce should know; he had one of those degrees himself.

Arriving at the Captain’s office and finding the door closed, Pierce presses his thumb to the chime and waited patiently.

The door opened, revealing the glass-walled expanse of Ingram's office. Out beyond the glass were the tiered ranks of control stations that allowed Canopus Station to operate as a major port. More so now that Task Force Hecate had made it their home away from home. Ingram was stood to one side of the deck, making minute hand gestures to a holographic display filling one of the walls.

"Come in," he said without turning back. "I'll be with you in a moment, but as you can see the work beckons even here in private."

“Ain’t that always the way?” Commented Pierce as he entered the office and chose a seat across from Ingram’s desk. “A captain’s work is never done.”

"Quite," Ingram said with a thin-lipped smile. "If not power budget meetings, it's resource allocation, starfighter deployments and defence planning."

He made a grand gesture to the display pane, and all of the branching file trees folded back in on themselves and shrank back into the folded contours of save file. With a flick of his fingers, the holographic construct turned into a mote of light and flashed to the desk where it landed and vanished into the inlaid computer system.

"Of course the setting and stage for that work does take some of the edge off of the barb: Messier 4, the High Frontier," Ingram chuckled at the advertising copy that was beginning to go around the Federation thanks to the FNS. "So, Captain Hunnicutt, what is that Canopus Station can do for you and the USS Sherman Potter?"

"A vacation on a nice tropical planet would be nice," Hunnicutt joked. "Somewhere with lots of girls. Oh, I have crew who like men, too, don't I? Better make it men and girls. And rum."

"Well, I have a moon that can do a fair approximation of tropical if you're after a 10 thousand square kilometre desert. But apart from that, we've not exactly found a garden world," Ingram said, leaning back in his chair. "The last near habitable world we came across had five years prior just been roasted into a nuclear hellscape. Might I then suggest the holodecks on your own ship?"

"Suppose the holodecks will have to do," agreed Hunnicutt with a grin. "In all seriousness, though- if that's even possible for me- we've just arrived. I feel like it's me who should be asking you what we can do for you."

"A fair question..." Ingram said, stroking his chin as he tapped the desk's glossy surface. A holographic diagram of an Olympic class starship appeared above the desk, rotating slowly. "Huum, USS Sherman Potter. Hospital ship, though outfitted on paper as a first responder to conflict zones. I see the Yard's in the Milky Way have installed the new Buckler Shield system, we've had good reports of it out in Messier 4...Huum."

Ingram tapped a button, a data pane appeared on his side of the desk.

"Commodore Grission is outfitting a scouting mission to the Xilosian star system, that nuked hellscape of a planet I was telling you about. It was visited by a Messier 4 power bloc called The Concordance. They convert entire populations to their way of thinking with a fungal infection that builds an implant within the brain. Rather a clever bit of bio coding, given it seems able to take root in every exposed species who's come into contact with it. Grissom wants as much info on the Concordance as possible, so his scouts are going to dragnet the entire system and try and take apart one of the temples left behind on Xilos. You could tag along with them, get a lay of the land as it were. A hospital ship would be the ideal isolation facility for the remote study of the fungal pathogen," Ingram offered.

"Sounds... safe," replied Hunnicutt with a grin. "Even so, it might be interesting to see how it works. And we've got an Epidemic Intelligence department on board. I'm sure they'd be interested in it as well." He paused a moment. "We heard rumors about Carcosia in the area. I never know how much of the Federation News Service I can believe, though."

"Yes. The Reciprocity of Carcosia. They're new," Ingram said with a sour note to his words. His hand made a gesture above the desk, and the hologram of the Sherman Potter vanished to be replaced by something similar but utterly different. At a glance, it shared the same design heritage as a traditional Starfleet ship. Two warp nacelles, an engineering hull and a command section. But everything was subtly off: the vertically stacked nacelles, the long narrow sword-like profile.

The theorised weapon compliment.

"We've got one of their ships in dock at the moment, the RNS Dauntless. Had an engineering malfunction whilst passing through our star system, dropped out of quantum not 100 yards from the engineering module of this station. They hail from a colonial power that, supposedly, arose from an exodus fleet that fled the Earth Romulan War of 2156. Just shy of 240 ago. They've advanced well beyond us in terms of technology, and we know an embarrassingly small amount about their culture and society," Ingram explained.

"They probably know frightfully little about us, too," offered Pierce. "After all, we're not much like we were 240 years ago. At least I should hope not!"

"You'd be surprised," Ingram said guardedly. "These people are descendants of a group who fled a war on the back of stolen technology that might have shortened the conflict significantly. They saw a hopeless cause, and fled. How they got to Messier 4 through the Galactic Barrier is a mystery. But you are right, we know very little about them. Though I'd hardly call a medical ship a good scout."

“You’d be surprised,” replied Hunnicutt. “As long as we’re not trying to pry into their health history, doctors put people off their guard. ‘Nice scarf.’ ‘Why thank you I made it myself.’ ‘Oh, you knit?’ ‘Yes, it’s one of my many hobbies.’ ‘Oh? What else do you enjoy?’ ‘I also sing with a barbershop quartet and can the vegetables from my own hydroponic garden.’” He grinned. “It’s almost as if they’re glad they don’t have to talk about their blood pressure and lack of exercise.”

"Yes, but these are not people seeking our aid. Though they do seem to have more experience handling the Concordance. It might well do to have your ship visit them, to seek out such information and indeed perhaps gain some intelligence on our allies." Ingram mused. "I will have to pass this idea along to Commodore Grissom, he is after all theatre commander for Messier 4."

The way Ingram said that last part made it all sound so...Well. Pained was the word.

"Theater commander," repeated Hunnicutt. "That's reassuring. But, yes, I agree a visit to them would be beneficial. I could probably come up with a reasonable excuse for going to talk to them. After all, it might be a good idea to have some updated bio information on them, just in case. If they're willing to provide it. And we, in turn, can update their information on us. You know: just in case."

"Just in case," Ingram said with a thin, tight smile. He made a closing gesture with his hand, and the hologram of the rapier of a starship vanished. In its place, a series of file folders began to shrink down with little musical notes. "I'm transferring our medical reports on the Concordance bio implant and fungal infection to your personal data partition. I'm sorry to say I will not be providing you with any of our infected patients, given their violent tendencies I'd rather not risk your state of the art medical vessel."

After that, he stood.

"I'll pass along your plan to Grissom, I'm sure he'll be eager to get the Carcosian's on our side and sign off on the plan. Until then Canopus Station is yours, feel free to requisition supplies and materials as you see fit," Ingram extended a hand across the desk to Hunnicutt.

"Thank you, sir," replied Hunnicutt, standing and grasping Ingram's hand in his. "Once we have a direction, we'll be out of your hair."

"We'll be here to welcome you home when you return," Ingram gave him a firm handshake. "We are a small fraternity out here in Messier 4. I would not want your ship to be lost. Safe journey and fair seas Captain Hunnicutt."

"Thank you, sir," said Pierce and then hesitated a moment. "And... to you whatever the equivalent is for lighthouses. Or docks. Both, actually."

Dr. Konrad Anjou was doing inventory of the ship's narcotics looker when he was prompted by the comm. He answered and a medtech came through.

"Lieutenant Anjou, this is Petty Officer Barnet. I need your authorization to beam a patient to an exam room." The voice stated.

Konrad preferred the title of doctor over lieutenant but didn't see the need to argue with the medtech. "If it is an emergency you don't need my permission, just have the patient beamed to the ER."

"This would be classified as ambulatory, Lieutenant." Barnet replied.

Despite being a little bristled by the use of rank, Anjou continued. "Can the patient walk?"

"Yes. It's just..." Barnet was searching for words, "It's a bit embarrassing."

"Ah, okay. Beam the patient to exam room #6. I'll have a nurse sent over." Anjou instructed Barnet.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Lieutenant. I think you need to see the patient yourself." Barnet told Anjou.

"First, call me Doctor and not Lieutenant. Second, you had better tell me why you, as a medtech, would advise the chief of surgery?" Anjou was getting frustrated.

"Lieutenant...ur, I mean Doctor, please just examine the patient yourself before handing him off to a nurse?" Barnet pleaded.

"Very well, I'll meet you in the exam room. Anjou out."

As Anjou entered the exam room he noticed Barnet and a nude couple stuck in the act of coitus on the exam table. The male was a short, hairy man with unkempt hair. The female was lean and, unusually, bald. When Anjou came closer he realized that the female was in fact, a doll. She was also the spitting image of L'Noryn.

Anjou was taken aback. "Ah, yes. Good call Barnet." Was all Anjou could say.

"Thank you Doctor." Barnet replied, a bit relieved that he could now pass this mess onto someone else. "This is Petty Officer 2nd Class Culbyrn."

"Hey Doc." Culbyrn greeted Anjou. "Sorry about the trouble. I built her myself." Culbyrn motioned to the doll. "When I designed her, I underestimated the size of my 'unit', if you know what I mean?"

"Obviously your 'unit' isn't your brain." Anjou replied. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. Or for that matter," Anjou pointed to the doll, "Have created that."

"Slag off Doc, that's my woman!" Culbyrn shot back.

"Oh Culy, your just too much of a man for me!" The doll spoke in a sultry voice.

"Dear Creator, it talks? Please get it to shut up?" Anjou more ordered than asked.

"Sorry, Doc. L'Noryn is her own woman." Culbyrn replied with a greasy grin.

"That isn't L'Noryn." Anjou told him.

"No, that most certainly is not," Mary spoke as she entered.

Anjou was very likely her mentor in surgery, thus she had wanted to pose some theoretical surgical questions about a surgery she was officially denied to look further into.

Upon seeing the enlisted man's predicament, Mary tried very hard not to laugh, all the while she forgot about the purpose of her visit.

"Hello Doctor." Anjou wasn't happy that Roberts had seen the abomination on the exam table. "I know this may be very difficult, but can you keep this to yourself?"

Before Roberts could answer the doll spoke up as if in the throes of ecstasy. "Oh, you know how to pleasure a woman!"

"Sure," Mary answered with a fast nod and started poking the doll, all the while causing the enlisted man to wince in discomfort. "Not a traditional blowup. I'm guessing it's some sort of hard plastoid... Laser scalpels could easily cut around the area and remove some of the pressure. Then pump him with valium and remove the final plastic piece when his best friend shrinks."

"L'Noryn is made from an advanced polymer that feels like real skin." Culbyrn shot back at Mary. "And your not taking a scalpel to her. She is perfect the way she is!"

"Um, no. After we dislodge you from your toy you will destroy it. If not, I'll report you to the Captain. I think he would look down on your design." Anjou told Culbyrn.

Mary wondered if that was indeed true. The Head Nurse was half-Deltan, and thus had that exotically beautiful appeal to her. Men and a few women looked L'Noryn's way. Thus that doll could easily turn into a high-tradeable commodity. Something like two-weeks replicator rations for 15 minutes in Heaven with that doll, Mary guessed.

"To hell I will!" Culbyrn stood up only to have the doll fall to the floor, pulling Culbyrn by his member with her. Culbyrn lay in a twisted mess, motionless.

"My pokey." Is all he could say in a weak voice.

Mary tried not to go into hysterical laughed with the word, 'Pokey'. Instead, she winked at Anjou, an evil look that suggested she had a plan. "Well, the only other means of removing it is using the transporter system... But as tightly bound and into your... doll, it does greatly put you at risk of losing your Thing."

Mary pointed to where his bit and tackle was. Culbyrn let out a bit of a whimper.

Anjou looked at Mary. "Normally I would recommend against using castration but the patient is very stuck." He then looked back at Barnet. "Have a team on standby at the transporter pad. Maybe he'll get lucky and his genitalia will materialize there. Maybe not inside out like the last time we had to do this."

"Oh yeah..." Mary nodded in foux recollection. "Poor guy had to wait three weeks for the prosthesis lab to build a suitable replacement. Unfurtanant, really."

"You...you can reattach it, right?" Culbyrn nervously asked.

"40% chance of failure," Mary answered as she scratched the back of her neck. "The chemical composition of your doll makes it hard for the scanners to separate the synthetic components from the real parts."

Culbyrn started to sweat profusely. "I guess I could patch her up. I saved her specs in the computer."

"So it's settled," Anjou announced. "I'm going to give you a sedative. When you wake up, you'll be in your quarters. We'll beam L'Noryn back with you."

At this point, Mary had to hide her snickers behind a PADD to muffle the sound.

Culbyrn nodded in agreement before Anjou gave him the hypo. Culbyrn went out quickly.

"Okay, we cut these two apart," Anjou told Mary. "Then, L'Noryn will have a transporter accident and never be seen again. We'll also have to delete that file."

"I'll dispose of the doll," Mary promised, though she was already planning something devious to do with it. "But I don't think we're the only ones who know."

Anjou looked at Barnet. "Culbyrn was in his quarters alone when I got the distress message." The medtech explained.

"Who else would know?" Anou asked Mary.

"Well I don't think he could have replicated this doll in his quarters. Something that big, he'd of gone to an industrial one. And folks notice when you carry something that large around the ship," Mary spoke matter-of-factly.

"Your probably right. He works in engineering, so he had help from down there. I, however, am not going to go down there and ask about the pervert and his dolly." Anjou told Mary.

"Yeah, I'd like to forget that I ever saw this." Barnet agreed.

Mary struggled to hide her mirth for the situation as she went into a supply closet and brought out a laundry cart.

"Well... I guess I'll go ditch Jessica Rabbit before any others find out," Mary spoke with a tiny snicker, heaved the life-size doll into the bin, and pulled a bunch of sheets over it. "I'll leave it to one of you to delete the file."

Barnet spoke up. "I'll find and delete it, Doctor. No use in both us getting creeped out."

"Thank you, I'll owe you one." Anjou nodded. "And if Culbyrn has made any other friends that resemble the crew, delete those too."

Mary left the hospital complex of the ship with all sorts of devious plans for Jessica Rabbit.

LaJaye stepped into his commander's office. Commander Perez sat behind his desk, working on a PADD.

"You wanted to see me Commander?" Sexington asked.

Perez looked up from his PADD. "Yes, I wanted to see you twelve hours ago. When you returned from your mission."

"No need to congratulate us, Commander. It was just another successful mission." Sexington told Perez.

"Congratulate you? It was a simple rescue operation of a downed shuttle and you caused an incident!" Perez shouted.

"Oh, don't tell me your going soft?" Sexington accused Perez. "I saw a group of natives approach. The were in blood soaked ritual garb and carried large bloody knives and cleavers. They were going to sacrifice the shuttle crew in a primitive ritual sacrifice."

Perez's mouth clinched in a repressed rage. "Had you read your briefing Sexington you would have known the Umagar are a low level industrial civilization and are agnostic. The men you shot were butchers from a local meat processing plant. They came out to help the wounded in the crash. For their efforts you shot them. Luckily you at least had the brains to keep your weapon on stun. Otherwise, the Federation would be at war."

"Well, Lieutenant Commander Clayton didn't say anything to me when it happened." Sexington tried to shift the blame.

"Yes she did!" Perez shouted, unable to contain his anger. "You shot her too!"

"She was acting like a typical panicky female. Stunning her was the only way to stop her from compromising the whole mission." Sexington explained.

"Clayton was not panicking. She was trying to get you to stop shooting the Umagar and you shot her! If anyone almost compromised the mission, it was you." Perez chided Sexington.

"Well, you have your opinion and I have mine." Sexington replied.

"That was the last straw, Sexington. Your getting transferred out of here." Perez informed him.

"Am I to finally be transferred to a special operations unit?" Sexington asked, with a bit of pride.

"No, your going to the USS Potter." Perez replied.

"I've never heard of that ship. Is it a battle cruiser on the Romulan neutral zone?" Sexington was hopeful.

"No, it's a hospital ship at Messier 4. That's out of our galaxy. Now, get packed and get off this station." Perez ordered Sexington.

With all the dignity Sexington could muster, we started to walk out of the office. As he was going through the door, he turned around.

"Is this because I porked your wife?" Sexington asked.

"Yes." Perez replied as a smile grew on his face.

'Fun and Games' seemed the impression people got when talking about Mary. The neurosurgeon resident heard the rumors. Knew people thought of her as a jokester too. None of that bothered her because it was true and deliberate on her part. But there also were some rumors going on where people doubted her skills as a doctor altogether.

She earned her certification as a general surgeon. She was a surgeon. In three or four years, she'd be a spectacular neurosurgeon - just like her dad. Maybe then, her parents would finally see her and be proud.

This, of course, was a wet dream. No matter how hard Mary studied, practiced, and overcame hard tests to prove her worth, it was never enough for her folks. The only time they made time for Mary, was because it improved their social status or helped sell her mother's family psychology books. Maybe it was this bitter belief that caused the sixteenth failed attempt on Doctor Berial Dorn's holographic spinal procedure: Lumbar Tumor Extraction, Beta-17.

L'Noryn had quietly observed the last surgical attempt from the left side of the training lab's entrance. Both of them were wearing the maroon OR department's scrubs. Even in a surgical practice lab, the scrubs were used. As well as any other PPE.

Since L'Noryn's shades were not OR approved, she had full eye-cover tinted plastic glasses on. They were a tad darker than her shades, but that was because the surgical lights were much brighter than standard lights. Still, she could see the moisture on Mary's neck. Fatigue sat in, and judging by the runtime log on the computer by the door, Mary had been in the lab for almost nine hours without a break.

Exhaustion could very well have a strong effect on the surgeon's performance. What with the occasional pauses to pop her neck or stretch her hands and legs. Eye strain most certainly would cause headaches after a while too. The impatience, however, along with the occasional jittery taps of her foot spelled out something under the outer layer of Mary's personality was afoot.

"Reset scenario," Mary spoke with frustration to the holo computer. The amount of exhaled breath in that command told L'Noryn that the young surgeon was reaching the maximum threshold both physically and emotionally.

While the holographic body reset on the surgical table, L'Noryn replicated a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich for Mary. Much as she grew annoyed with the human woman's antics, this situation needed a gentle hand and a lot of understanding and support. And she also wanted to see if Mary had a behavioral disorder, so tact was absolutely crucial.

Once she replicated an ice-cold glass of water, L'Noryn pulled her mask up and walked over to Mary's surgical table with both cup and plate in hand.

"You should eat, Doctor," L'Noryn spoke gently, quietly, and with respect so as not to spook the younger woman.

Mary was about to restart the scenario when L'Noryn interrupted. Suddenly she felt even more stressed. As if she were about to get dressed down or be told she was not good enough. Why a nurse of all people had the ability to make Mary feel insecure, she could not say. But she paused the program, took a step back, and followed L'Noryn to an unused surgical bed behind them.

L'Noryn gently pulled Mary's mask off and held the cup up so the doctor could hydrate from the straw. All the while, she watched the girl's features. Uncomfortable, withdrawn. L'Noryn was the last person Mary wanted a conversation with.

"Independent studies can be a bitch when you have labs and no specialized mentor standing beside you to help," L'Noryn began with sympathy.

Mary continued to sip on her water. L'Noryn's kindness was completely out-of-character, if previous interactions with her were the standard. So rather than anger the head nurse and seem petty and ungrateful, she gave the half-Deltan a nod of agreement. Then motioned to the sandwich.

L'Noryn placed the sandwich in front of Mary, allowing her to take a bite. The awkward silence told any bystander the real truth. Neither woman could stand the other. The tension in the room was the only thing they had in common, outside of trying to get even with the other in their neverending nonsensical back-and-forth prank war.

Mary chewed for a while on her food. At some point, she motioned for her water and drank on that some more. Then she found herself with the words she wanted to say.

"You... you don't like me," Mary accused with a dubious stare. "You have had very little faith in me since we met."

L'Noryn had to do a mental backflip to hold her calm center. The young doctor was frustrated beyond normal levels. She really needed a surgical team to bounce ideas from and help her troubleshoot what was blocking her progress. L'Noryn knew she had to be supportive and not combative, even though the latter is what she really wanted more than anything at that moment.

"Your beliefs and expectations of what you think this posting is about are annoying the nine hells out of me," L'Noryn answered honestly, but with a respectful tone. "I just think your disregard of caution I or anyone else tries to give to you about this surgical theater is due to your lack of combat medicine and experience."

"So you don't think I'm a good doctor," Mary accused more aggressively in tone. She was twisting L'Noryn's words, of course.

"You'd not of been given a neurosurgeon fellowship here if you weren't among the top-rated general surgeons to apply for the program," L'Noryn parried. Directly answering Marry's accusation was a trap and she did not want to make the insecurity in Mary feel any worse. Stating a fact seemed the safest response.

Mary sipped more on her water... and felt like she was being placed under a microscope, the longer L'Noryn stood close to her. The visual twitches of agitation were not missed by her advisory either.

"I'm not here to judge you," L'Noryn insisted with heavy concern in her voice. "Maybe I can help walk you through it -"

"I may not outrank you under normal circumstances but in the OR I make the decisions," Mary finally said with a barely-controlled, cool tone. She pulled her mask back up over her nose and walked toward her table. Her back faced to the half-Deltan. "Your services here are no longer required. You're dismissed from my training scenario, Nurse L'Noryn."

L'Noryn felt helpless at that moment. As if she fatally wounded a baby deer by accident and had to see it suffer for her punishment. "Mary -"

"Don't." Mary parried L'Noryn's consoling hand like a skilled ninja. Fast and forceful.

L'Noryn took a step back, unsure of what to say and now very leery of the human. The silence lasted for only a second.

"We're not friends. You made that very clear at my report-in," Mary shouted at L'Noryn. The damn had broke and when Mary turned to face her intruder, L'Noryn saw tears dampening the top of Mary's mask. "It's your fault people think I'm a stupid intern. So please. Get lost, Ma'am."

L'Nory gave a defeated nod of acknowledgment, then quietly left the room all crestfallen. There were other ways of getting the young surgeon the help and support she needed, and she knew just who to go to. But first L'Noryn picked herself up, swallowed her ego, and headed to her office. She needed to research Mary's career and just how long/often Mary practiced her new surgical techniques.

L'Noryn felt a failure. Normally she was good at inspiring subordinates to overcome and evolve past their expectations. Mary Roberts, however, proved too much. Maybe it was a mutual bias both women shared at each other, or maybe being a surgical nurse was not on the level as Mary's specialized surgical field.

She had wanted to sit with Konrad anyway, to talk. To get to know him. She needed some sort of companionship and soon because once the blood started to paint the walls red on this ship, a pillow to cry into was not going to be enough. L'Noryn just didn't think to foresee Mary, of all people, as the excuse she needed.

"Got ten minutes to spare?" L'Noryn spoke as she darted her head in the door. She was wearing her maroon OR scrubs with a skull cap.

Konrad was reading reports on that horrible fungus. The more he read, the more he became depressed. He looked up to see L'Noryn in the doorway. "Yes, please come in." He told her with a warm smile.

L'Noryn wanted to smile. She wanted to sit and have a drink with him as they planned. More so now that inventory was done, testing equipment ended, and they were settled into their sub-departments. Best she could manage was a half-smile.

"I just ran into Doctor Roberts," L'Noryn began with a worn-out tone as she gently sat down in a chair across from him. "I was initially looking for you and saw the surgical practice lab was in-use - Thought you might be refining your skills."

"You look a little distressed. Why don't you have a refreshment? What was it you liked, hot cocoa?" He asked her while walking up to the replicator.

"Yes, thank you." L'Noryn scratched the back of her neck nervously. "I'm afraid I errored wrongly in where I dressed her down - when the three of us met at report-in."

"Computer: Two hot cocoas." Konrad took the warm drinks an offered L'Noryn one. He sat down and took a sip. "I haven't had cocoa since I was at boarding school." Konrad took another sip. "Okay, why do you think that? Has Doctor Roberts been rude to you?"

"She was granted an independent study fellowship in the neurosurgeon program with Starfleet Medical," L'Noryn reminded him, then sipped and enjoyed the chocolate flavor in her mouth. "Apparently she's been studying a lot in the surgical lab, when she's not planned her next joke or caper... I pulled her training logs after she told me to get lost - blames my dressing her down in public as the main cause of why people aren't taking her skills as a physician seriously."

"Doctor Roberts still hasn't proven herself as a surgeon yet. She may be sensitive to any criticism. That said, no one on board doubts her abilities. As soon as she has faith in her own abilities she'll grow a thicker skin." Konrad told L'Noryn. "Well, if she has character she will." He added.

"As a general surgeon, she finished 4th in her class," L'Noryn spoke with high praise. "But yes, this is her first assignment, outside of a learning environment. And when she takes an OR table with us, it will be the first time she does so without supervision. She will be the attending at her table... I can relate to that pressure, I suppose. Nearly shit myself with the first medi-evac shuttle flight I was on. I had to perform emergency chest surgery on a patient while in transit to Starbase 12 to repair a collapsed lung. A surgeon on the station talked me through it though."

"And I remember my first assignment on the USS Artemis. It was during the Dominion War. I was working the OR and casualties kept rolling in. I had to patch up Romulans and Klingons in addition to Starfleet personnel. I was completely overwhelmed. I had to take shortcuts and do substandard medicine just to treat all the casualties. The experience really put me in my place." Konrad told L'Noryn in a somber tone.

"Maybe that is where I went wrong with Roberts." L'Noryn paused to sip more on her hot beverage before she added, "Nurses typically don't dress a doctor down, regardless of rank, in front of others... I may have inadvertently caused others to think less of her because I perceived her as a green, nieve, inexperienced doctor in front of divine omnipotence and everyone else. So any sage advice I tried to give her just now, means nothing to her - because I verbally castrated her worth as a doctor."

"Indeed, regardless of rank, one should avoid degrading a fellow member of Starfleet unless it is necessary." Konrad agreed and took a sip of cocoa. "When you do that, there is loss of respect or perceived respect. Both parties having respect for each other is needed for open communication. That's important because no matter how good the advice is, unless there is respect going both ways, that advice will be lost."

L'Noryn suddenly felt like her entire afternoon was a humble pie. She did not like knowing she paved this road and shoved Mary down it.

"Right now, Doctor Roberts doesn't think you respect her. You lost that and that will have to be earned again." Konrad told L'Noryn.

L'Noryn nodded and pulled a PADD from her back pocket, and handed it to Konrad. "Those are programs she loaded into the surgical trainer database... Not sure she realized she made it publically accessible. The head of her fellowship sent theses assignments to her four days ago. There's about two-thousand scenarios all regarding neurosurgeon specialist procedures. Thought I'd study some of them and see if I could offer my nursing talents the next time she goes into the trainer, but I don't think I'm the second pair of hands she needs right now."

"Would you like me to go to her and offer you assistance?" Konrad asked. "I could try and smooth things over between you two?"

"I think Time itself will gradually fix the issues surrounding Roberts and me." L'Noryn checked the clock on her watch and gave an unsure shrug. "She spent most her shift and then some in the simulator. I watched her a solid forty minutes on a scenario with a very difficult decompression of the mid-lumbar. The patient has cancerous growths surrounding the tissue around the spine and has a history of high blood pressure. An Andorian middle-aged male... She's not going to solve it today. I don't think she realizes some of her mock cases require her to troubleshoot with an actual surgical team. Regardless, if she's still in there, I'd recommend ordering her to eat and then bed soon."

Konrad nodded. "That sounds like wise advice. Just out of curiosity, why are you so interested in Roberts' study habits?"

"I wasn't," L'Noryn answered honestly. "As I said, I was looking for you, saw the lab was in use, figured that's where you'd be and ended up she was the only one in there using one of the holo surgical tables... Like you, I want everyone here to improve. The fact she was trying to do that and failing, and getting extraordinarily frustrated, tugged at my heartstrings. And when she refused my help, I felt I needed to research this girl's career - a new perspective."

"Alright." Konrad felt L'Noryn was sincere. "I'll check up on her. I'll also offer my help and assign a few surgery nurses to help her train. Well, you'll assign the nurses and I will offer them to her."

"Is Roberts the closest we have to a neurosurgeon? Or do we have a fully-trained specialist?" L'Noryn scratched her chin, for of all the records she had gone through so far, mostly general surgeons filled the doctors' billets. "Because she may very well think she's alone in this if she's all we got in her specialty."

"As far as I know, yes. That doesn't mean she will practice alone or that particular burden is hers alone to carry. I've had to dabble in neurosurgery several times when I was the only physician aboard a ship. I would also be surprised if I was the only doctor on board to experience that." Konrad explained.

"Is that your conjecture? You think Doctor Roberts takes full responsibility for all neurosurgery?" Konrad asked.

"I think it might be part of the problem, yes," L'Noryn answered grimly. "Living with her in a small room for a few days, I've also picked up on social interaction indicators that she could have adult ADHD. But I never got anywhere close to the subject with her today to even ask her any diagnostic test questions to confirm the diagnosis, and unlike her, I'm not about to go into her personal medical records because I'm curious and I have a hunch."

The last part of her sentence had an air of annoyance and anger in L'Noryn's tone. Of course, she shook her head as if to cast the negative emotions away, then took another sip of her warm cocoa to calm her feelings.

"I did a quick glance at her service record and found nothing to show any signs that a mental handicap has impeded her work. So if she has ADHD, there isn't a need to treat it unless she asks." Konrad admitted. "If I, or any other leadership, notice this behavior we will have a chat with her about it."

"ADHD isn't a handicap. It's a behavioral disorder," L'Noryn interjected as two intellectual work colleagues would when debating with one another. "She gets bored, she pulls pranks and has landed in the brig many times because of it. Destructive behavior is part of the symptoms. But she also micro focuses a lot and loses focus a lot... Also common when you add her hyperactivity. But again - moot point if she doesn't even care. But if she is having focus issues, medication would help - more so when her specialty demands the steadiest of hands in extremely small sections of the body."

L'Noryn knew, as a nurse, this was as far as she could go to argue on the subject. Point out the symptoms she noticed personally with Mary's supervisor, and let the doctor at least be aware. Ultimately, even if L'Noryn ran the diagnostic tests on her own with Mary's permission, a doctor had full rights to second-guess and overrule her findings. Thus L'Noryn bowed her head to Konrad with full respect.

"In the very least, you could offer to do a medical workup to eliminate drug use as an excuse for her behavior," L'Noryn suggested. "If my hunches are wrong, it's a waste of tests. But if my hunches are right, then you've helped ensure she has a better success rate with her specialization, Doctor."

"We would need to test the entire crew, otherwise we cannot single one person out on a hunch. To be honest, it may be a good idea to do a quick medical scan of the crew to use as a baseline. I have a feeling things are going to get weird out here." Konrad told L'Noryn.

"As we don't have a chief medic, yeah, probably a good idea." L'Noryn agreed and visibly relaxed now that Mary's issues had been discussed. "I'm fairly certain it falls to you to order it, and given this deadly spore outbreak of the region, we should have current brain patterns on record for baseline comparisons... Do you want the nurse practitioners to perform the physicals along with the doctors, or would you prefer we run the basic medical scans and lab procedures with the other nurses?"

Nurse practitioners were a political gray line in the medical community. They were more skilled than other nurses, and sometimes more knowledgeable than greenhorn general doctors. But they were not doctors. Like IDCs, they had a skill set designed to perform as a single medical professional where doctors were hard to come by.

On a medical ship, however, the skill sets weren't always utilized because some doctors preferred not to operate in the gray lines where nurse practitioners did.

"Okay, I'll get the ball rolling on this. I don't know if we have a psychologist on board yet. If we do, I'll gently inform them of your suspicions." Konrad consulted L'Noryn.

"Maybe once things settle, you and I can finally have that dinner you eluded to," L'Noryn smiled with a relaxed exhale. "Seems something is always going on with this ship."

"We might have to make our own time." He replied. "I know several great restaurants. Sadly, we would have to take the long jump back to get to them."

"Or we could dine-in. I might even be willing to grill a few slabs of meat on my cooking unit," L'Noryn offered with a grin that caused her bracelet to hiss. "I could bring the meat to your place if you can figure out the sides. All I need to know is if you want steak or chicken."

"You can cook? That's a skill I never learned to develop. Since it is an occasion, let's go with steak." Konrad stated with enthusiasm.

"I'm not a five star by any means," L'Noryn laughed jovially. "I do know how to marinate, tenderize, and cook meats, though... Just need to decide when we want to do this then."

"I think we should schedule this in the next few days before everything gets frantic. I haven't had a home-cooked meal in ages and I'm sure whatever you cook will be delicious." Konrad told L'Noryn.

"It's settled then," L'Noryn grinned and stood up, then set the mug on the table. "And if I haven't said it... Thank you for helping with this impasse I'm at with Roberts."

"Thank you for trusting me enough to open yourself up." Konrad smiled at L'Noryn.

"Trusting others was never my weakness," L'Noryn stated with a wink before she waved to him in parting.

ON:

Cate walked out of the ER Medication Room and used the security panel to lock the door. She turned her focus to the PADD in her hand and made some entries as she walked to the nurses' station. "Anyone seen Rylan?" she asked the nurses mingling behind the counter. Getting a negative response she said, "if you see him tell him I need his requisitions." She was turned to leave, her attention still on her entries in the PADD and was about to say she was going on comms when she ran head on into the Senior Chief.

Senior Chief Hospital Corpsman discretely kept Lieutenant Donovan from falling, hiding his grin. "You okay there, Lieutenant?" As a Senior Chief, Alex was very familiar with officers not being able to find their asses with both hands, so one walking head on into him was no real surprise.

"Uh," Cate grunted and looked up. "Oh. Just the man I was looking for," she said.

"Really?" Alex said. "Well, you've found me... through reconnaissance by fire, but you found me nonetheless. What can I do for you?"

"I'm taking the ER's requisition orders up to L'Noryn for approval," Cate said, tapping the PADD in her hand. "I know they aren't due until tomorrow but if you have yours ready....," she left her sentence open ended for interpretation and smiled at Alex.

"Way ahead of you, Lieutenant," Alex said. He took his PaDD out of the pocket in his utility pants where he usually kept it, and sent the electronic requisition form to Cate's account. "I think that's everything. I had some other division requisition forms to complete. I'd planned to send them all at once, but I don't mind turning this one in early."

"Thanks," Cate said. "At some point I want to get with you on your EMT-P schedules and protocols." She was quick to add, "just so we're on the same page."

"Sure thing," Alex said, not quite sure where Donovan was going with this. "You mean just the ones that work in the emergency clinic, right? Or do you want to discuss every last Corpsman certified EMT-B and/or EMT-P? All of the lower tier corpsmen in medical department as a whole are certified EMT-Basic, some of the mid-tier Corpsman and all of the Independent Duty Corpsmen are EMT-Paramedics, regardless of where they work in medical, surgery, nursing, dental, optometry, Med Lab, etc." Alex grinned. "We're kind of everywhere in medical. There's even a few corpsman working as veterinary assistants and technicians and even they're certified EMT-Basic."

Cate shook her head and chuckled. "I guess I deserved that for not being more specific," she said. "Let's just stick to our teams of first responders. I just want to make sure there is a mutual understanding of how to take working as a team to a higher level so nobody gets toes stepped on." She had a couple of ideas she wanted to run past him since he was in charge of the First Responders and if any of her ideas sparked his interest she would go to the next step which was getting L'Noryn on board. "Nothing critical," she added. "Let me get these up to the boss before she goes to lunch."

"Of course, Ma'am," Alex said. "Let me know when you're available and I'll meet with you then or find another time for you if I'm needed elsewhere."

Cate gave him a mock two-finger salute and rushed off. As the ER doors shut behind her another nurse came out from behind the nurses' station and clapped Alex on the shoulder. "Her bark is worse than her bite," she said softly and gave him a wink before walking away.

Alex chuckled. He was young to be an E8 Senior Chief, but regardless of his age, he was a Senior Chief. You didn't get to be a Chief, not to mention a Senior Chief who'd served with the Marine Raiders, without developing a serious backbone. A serious backbone and a sometimes unhealthy lack of fear of officers. Still, the boyish ex-Raider was in no hurry to antagonize his superiors. Alex knew that Chiefs ran the Fleet while officers took the credit. As long as he was occasionally recognized for his service, even unofficially, he was good with that.

A few minutes later Cate walked up to the door of L'Noryn's office and rang the chime.

L'Noryn had finally figured out what she wanted the walls in her office to be... An exhibit of mostly her career, smattered with pictures of her and her Vulcan foster mother at various Marine Air and Space shows - for that was what her unit did before going off and fighting a war against former Federation paramilitary allies.

There were several unit pictures. Many were a series of group pictures with graduating Flight Nurses and her Marine Company and Flight Group pictures in various dress uniforms. The less series group holo photos were taken with a conglomerate of shuttle and bomber crews from the 5th Marine Battalion, 3rd Division, Bravo Company. Most of those pictures, the pilots and crews were making silly poses in unkempt Marine BDUs. One such picture was a mock head-dunk pose on L'Noryn. The marine pilot of her medevac shuttle, 1LT John Lake Jr, was the one trying to dunk her head in a water barrel, being cheered by the rest of the flight crew.

S’Kaylec and her husband were even in one picture, with a much younger L'Noryn in a crisp 2374 era Starfleet uniform, being pinned at her graduation and Starfleet commissioning ceremony from the Betazed Medical Institute. The lovely rolling hills of Betazed made for a perfect backdrop.

But the one picture that took the main focus, was above her head, above the LCARS diagnostic review screen behind the half-Deltan (whenever she sat at her desk), and to the right of all her nursing, nurse practitioner, and advanced nurse practitioner degrees. This picture was of the Flight Nurse Wings pinning ceremony. Of her receiving her bomber jacket, and medical wings/combadge.

L'Noryn took one last look around the room before her chime went off. Instantly, she responded, "It's open."

Cate pressed the door control and the door slid open with a whispering hiss. She stepped across the threshold and walked over to her boss's desk. Holding out the two PADDs she said as she glanced around at the office, "requisition requests from the E.D. and the Paragods," a term of endearment for the EMT-Ps used by the ER nurses.

L'Noryn read the ER report. As the half-Deltan was there in the first wave, most of the requests for more supplies had already been sent, but she did not want to seem ungrateful. Instead, she smiled. If anything, the numbers matched. And with a friendly gesture, she pointed to one of the sitting chairs in front of her desk.

"We should probably talk since my role will likely overlap yours once Potter stops being a Level 1 Trauma Center, and becomes a MASH unit," L'Noryn spoke with sympathy. "I'm sure you realize, I'm not here strictly as an admin, right?"

"I would hope not," Cate said, taking a seat. "A nurse your caliber would be wasted sitting behind a desk. Once we become a MASH unit we will need your skills. A nurse doesn't stop being a nurse just because they get promoted to Head Nurse."

L'Noryn smiled at Cate. Content with that. Relaxed, the half-Deltan leaned back in her comfy leather chair. "I don't really micromanage. I trust my senior nurses to do their jobs. As well as the IDCs to maintain their training and oversite with corpsmen... But situations where Potter itself becomes The MASH unit, and we take on hundreds of wounded within a matter of a few hours?"

L'Noryn frowned. "...I'm a MASH unit's, Head Nurse. So I apologize if I step on toes ahead of time. It's not personal. I just want all the pieces where they are best used. But I also want to know if folks feel I'm pushing too hard. Because we only have 3 months before the ship has its first inspection. Passing is critical, getting everyone at high-tier performance is critical. So I intend to push shipwide practical MASH training in our downtimes."

Cate smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say that," she said. "I was planning to ask you if I could put the ED through some drills so it sounds like we think alike." She noticed one of L'Noryn's photos and her smile turned to a grin. It reminded her of her days as a Marine Field Nurse. They were some of the best, crazy and, sometimes, worst of her life. With an emphasis on crazy. It was how they blew off steam. "Ever staple your tent mate's socks shut while they slept?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes.

"No," L'Noryn chuckled. "But I have replaced IcyHot in someone's shaving cream... Lot of wild times, the MedEvac team I was assigned to, had."

"It's how we deal with the insanity of what comes through our doors," Cate said. "So when do you want to start these drills?"

"After we make the FTL jump. We should have test all our equipment by then," L'Noryn answered. "Place we're jumping to sounds like it has a lot of unknowns, in terms of hot zones... But I'm sure between you and me, we'll have the medical department ready to go."

"Sounds good to me," Cate said, smacking the arms of the chair for emphasis. "If you want I'll set up a mass casualty holoprogram and we can run a drill within the next 48 hours."

"I'll run it with the CO and the Chief of Surgery, but that sounds good," L'Noryn agreed. "I do have one request with the OR nurses' table assignments though... Please, do not, pair me with Doctor Roberts. Unless it's the last option, I prefer to be as far away from that irritating woman as possible."

Cate nodded with a chuckle. "She is a bit like fingernails on a blackboard," she said. Standing up she said, "I will get to work on a plan."

L'Noryn shared the chuckle and waved Cate out warmly. It was nice to have a right-hand as skilled as she.

Comrade Prince Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov, as he was formally known in the People's Imperial Democratic Socialist Republic of New Kossackia (a "nation" made up of a hybrid race produced from the combination of Russian deep space colonists and a dying race of long-lived, hearty humanoids from the Kossack system), was the second child of Noble Prince Andrei Ivanovich Donaurov, who was Head of Household for House Donauri. Alexei's elder sister, Comrade Noble Princess Anastasia Andreyovna Donaurov, was first born and therefore the heir to the Head of Household. As long as Comrade Princess Anastasia Andreyovna Donaurov didn't die childless, Comrade Prince Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov was free to do as he pleased. Of course, all Imperials (children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, etc, of the Imperial family) and all Nobles (those of Noble birth and those elevated to the nobility) were expected, by law, to work for the betterment of society. While Imperials and Nobles were banned from holding elected office, they were required to enter public service, or work in the arts, or in medicine, or in academia, or philanthropy, etc. There were no idle princes or princesses (Imperial or Noble) or idle Counts, Viscounts, Barons, etc. Every member of People's Imperial Democratic Socialist Republic was expected to work in some way for the common good. This also applied to the Heads of Household and the Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses. You were expected to use the income from your lands responsibly, for the betterment of the people of your lands and there were stiff penalties for mismanagement and/or neglect, and even stiffer penalties for corruption.

Since the PIDSRoNK (as it was sometimes abbreviated) joined the Federation, service in Starfleet, the SFMC, the Federation Foreign Service, or any Federation government agency, was added to the lists of acceptable public service professions, and working in the Federation in a private capacity, depending on the work, was also considered acceptable, which was why Comrade Noble Prince Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov AKA Doctor Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov AKA Lieutenant Commander Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov found himself in a Starfleet uniform, on an Olympic Class starship, in the quarters that had been assigned to him, having just finished settling in. There the prince stood, giving himself one last once over. He was fairly fastidious, but not impractical. His work took him into the field in extremely rough and hazardous conditions, and while he was hygienic in the field, he wasn't ridiculous. But he wasn't in the field now and he wanted to look good. Which he did. So he set off for his scheduled meeting with the Captain and the Executive Officer.

When he arrived at the Captain's Ready Room, he hit the chime.

"It's always open," came the reply from Pierce. He looked up from the PADD he held as the doors parted to spot his second officer. "Ah, Doctor Doraunov!" he greeted, standing from his desk. "Thank you for coming!"

"He says thank you. When he is Captain, he says this thing to many peoples. He forget, think I, that he is Captain of ship and people do as he ask not out of deference but due to brass on neck," Arkady said from where he sat on the sofa lining the side of the Ready Room. He was a big man, burly with the fighter's physique that another time would have seen him in a collesseium. His hands certainly looked scarred enough as he rubbed a small cleaning cloth over his glasses.

"But look at him. Is not man of Captaincy, but of Doctoring. Is people person say I," Arkady finished as he settled the glasses back on to his nose. He stood, opening one of his ham sized hands and offered it. "I on other hand am please to meet you Commander Donaurov. Two of us against the people person will at least give even odds no?"

Alexei laughed. "Hopefully, Commander Sjet," he said. "Hopefully." Alexei shook the offered hand and then offered his hand to his new Captain. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Hunnicutt. Lieutenant Commander Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov, or just Doctor Donaurov, if you prefer." Then Alexei grinned. "If you really feel like wowing the natives on an Away Mission, you can introduce me as His Highness Comrade Prince Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov, but that's a bit formal for our purposes. I hope one day you will feel comfortable just calling me Alexei Andreyovich or simply Alexei." Alexei looked over at Arkady. "The same goes for you, sir."

Pierce grinned. "Yeah, maybe I do forget that I'm the Captain from time to time," he said. "But I've got you two to remind me. Still, maybe obeying orders deserves a thank you now and then."

"Respect garners respect," Alexei said. "Or it should. May I sit?" The epidemiologist and Medical Intelligence specialist gestured to one of the unoccupied chairs in the Ready Room.

"By all means," replied Pierce, motioning to the chairs opposite his desk. He then sat in his own chair. "So, gentlemen, here we are. Ready to embark on an epic journey. I don't know about you, but I feel like Gulliver. Or Odysseus. Or Frodo Baggins! But taller and without the hairy feet."

Alexei smiled at the reference. He'd loved the books the Captain was referencing... as something to read once, enjoy, and put down for a few decades at least. And the other books by that author! All written as world building notes, never meant to be published... and then some idiot published them! Capitalism run amok...

"I am very excited," Alexei said. "To travel so far, to see new places, and, as is my unfortunate lot, encounter new health concerns. This fungus they are have difficulties with will be a challenge, is already presenting a challenge to our resources there. Starlfeet Center for Medical Intelligence, not to mention the EIS and the CDC as a whole, are very interested in learning as much as we can about it. It goes without saying that we need to stop it cold, but I have been instructed to also devote time and resources to developing action plans to attempt to contain it and prevent its spread and where possible, implement them. With your blessing, of course, Captain."

"Of course," replied Pierce with a nod. "Whatever we can do to make life easier, I always say. I know this is probably a stupid question, but has anyone tried antifungals to treat or prevent it?"

"From file, Canopus Station sent to us, they have tried many things. Antifungals, antiparasitics, gene coded phages and nanomachine intervention. Once fungus has passed through blood/brain barrier, it is dealt with quickly by bodies immune system. Is side effect of this reaction that implants neural device. So far they have put one of the infected into a neurogenic coma after the implant, fully formed, react to medical intervention by thermally overloading itself," Arkady said studiously. "This Concordance...is worthy enemy of doctors. Not only invading, and destroying worlds, but destroying the people from the inside. I would like to meet them, and discuss opinion on matter."

"You and me both," agreed Pierce grimly. "So the problem is the side effects it leaves behind. Hm. Well, I'm a surgeon, not a research scientist. I suppose I wouldn't know what to do. We'll have to get a copy of the files for our researchers to look over. Not that I expect them to find anything, but you never know; the more eyes on a problem, the more likely a solution will be found."

"By thermally overloading itself," Alexei said. "Wouldn't that kill the victim? Overheat the victims gray matter?"

"And make surgical removal impossible. It was during such a procedure that the implant overloaded," Arkady mused. "They were using medical-grade nanomachines to reduce trauma on neural tissue. Non-conductive material. Moment of contact is same as moment of first thermal spike. Implant is smart cookie."

"Well," Alexei said. "There's little point in designing an ineffective, inefficient bioweapon. In most cases I feel it safe to assume that if I encounter a bioweapon I believe to be ineffective and inefficient, I'm probably missing something... or the thing isn't working as planned, but then that kind of weapon usually turns out to be nastier and more dangerous than originally intended. There are of course instances where something gets loose early or the delivery mechanism fails to deliver the pathogen correctly, but that isn't always beneficial to us either. In this case, as you have described, this Concordance has developed a nasty fungal pathogen, designed to keep it's victims alive long enough to spread the fungus further, while also sowing chaos and causing mayhem within the ranks of their enemies. Gentlemen, it is true that I am an infectious disease specialist, but I am first and foremost an epidemiologist. If we can't cure it at the moment, then we have to develop adequate prevention plans, the best we can come up with for the time being. That will give the lab geeks a chance to develop a cure. I understand that quarantine is difficult, because the fungal infection is designed to make the infected uncooperative, da? This is going to... has already complicated matters greatly. We'll need to develop a shipboard plan in case it gets aboard, and we may have to be ruthless about it, about enforcing quarantine, even if it means vaporizing, incinerating, or spacing the infected if they can't be contained. I think the first step is developing a plan with Security so we can quickly isolate and subdue anyone suspected of have caught the fungus, preferably without coming into contact with them. Forcefields and anesthetic gases to start. If that doesn't slow them down, we can put... other more... permanent measures in place."

Alexei waited for the usual horrified response he got when he had to discuss the unpleasant mastodon in the room.

"That shouldn't be too difficult," replied Pierce. "Although, I understand that there are early signs, during which the patient can be reasoned with. Have a chat with them, get them to agree with quarantine and Bob's your uncle. And if they get angry, you call security and have them arrested. That might be a bit simplistic, but it's a start."

"Treat Potter like bubble. No one in or out without first passing through border control. Medical screening in isolated environment, cut off from rest of the ship so as to avoid any chance of cross-contamination. Perhaps even more stringent for away teams once we have left known safe areas like this star system? Out beyond Carpathia is strange place without much knowing it to it," Arkady grumbled. "This reminds me of the War, of times when Dominion madness made them rain poison from the sky. Red Mist on Abukar, and the Glass Sickness of Ceti Minor. I thought perhaps would be different beyond wall of galaxy no?"

He chuckled and looked at Alexei.

"If recalled from file, you are also former member of EIS? Well, former such a loose word, no one ever leaves the EIS," Arkady mused. "Is good place to learn that a doctor can be healer or preventor of great harm. This fungus, and its perpetrators, are a great harm no?"

"I'm still EIS, Comrade Commander," Alexei said. "And preventing harm is exactly what I do. I reserve the most drastic of measures for the most dire of situations. I hope we can detain and treat subjects, quarantine them until they beat the disease or we cure it. From the description of this fungus, the way it is designed to cause a biological imperative in the host to spread it everywhere, that's going to make containment difficult."

"We might not have choice in who is saved or who is not. This Concordance plan their actions around the fungus, infecting new hosts before they know what is happening," Arkady mused. "Is perhaps thought that we have automated freighters designed to follow us. Perhaps outfit one as quarantine ship for infected. No controls, no access drive systems. Keep them safe, and utterly isolated from Potter."

"Might be a good idea," agreed Pierce. "Under normal circumstances, I'd say we'll cross that bridge when we get there, but in this case, it would be a good idea to prepare ahead of time."

"It could come to that," Alexei said. "In the mean time, I'll develop some protocols utilizing the space we have so we can quickly subdue, isolate, and contain a potential outbreak on the ship. Then we'll run drills to make sure we can lock an outbreak down as quickly as the laws of physics allow, since I'm fairly certain you can't change those."

"Says man who used machine that gave physics bruise to get us here in one piece," Arkady mused. "From what I hear, Canopus Station have nearly an entire Marine Company in quarantine due to infection. Might be idea to ask them for tips."

"I'm aware," Alexei said. "I plan to consult with them ASAP."

"Is good to communicate," Arkady grinned.

"Absolutely," agreed Pierce. "Especially when they're bound to know at least twice as much as you. Or even ten percent more, really. Any opportunity to learn."

"Well," Alexei said. "We should get some other business out of the way. I've been through the Bridge Officer's course, so I can effectively serve as your second officer. However, unlike the two of you, Command is my secondary job on the ship. I have a great deal of work to do that I can't really do sitting in the command chair. Also, I need work some ours in Sickbay into my schedule to keep my medical skills sharp. On most ships I've been on, unless there is a specific crisis, junior officers have stood watch in command, leaving the Second Officer to do their regular job. Will that be true here as well?"

"Absolutely," replied Pierce. "As I understand it, about three-quarters of the crew have gone through and passed bridge officer training. I believe the Chief of Security, as well as the Chief Flight Control officer, are both able to take charge in a medical crisis, which will leave all three of us to assist in Sick Bay. And if all else fails, we call one of the other three hundred thousand people who can do the job."

"Excellent," Alexei said, looking relieved. "I'm happy to answer any other questions either of you might have, but if you have none, I should probably get to my office and start settling in there."

"I've got nothing pressing," replied Pierce. "Just the standard stuff- when's your birthday? What's your favorite color? You know, the basics." He grinned. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Commander."

"The pleasure was mine, Captain," Alexei said. "And it was a pleasure to meet you as well, Commander. Good day to both of you."

And with that, Alexei was out the door and off to his offices to get set up there before the Potter set off on her short journey over a very long distance.

"I like him!" said Pierce to his executive officer. "Can we keep him?"

"Did not keep receipt, no refunds," Arkady said with a shrug.

"I'm the thin line of defense for this vessel." LaJaye Sexington bragged to the several nurses surrounding him in the medical lounge.

"I keep my body at peak performance. It needs to be a well regulated device. One never knows when he will be called upon to risk his life for others." LaJaye stated with a smirk. "And you ladies are definitely worth dying for." Some of the nurses gawked at LaJaye, naively falling for his bravado.

"It's getting warm in here. I need to remove my jacket." LaJaye stated as he took of his jacket. Underneath, he wore a form fitting, sleeveless undershirt. He stood as he folded and put his jacket on an empty chair. While doing so, he flexed his muscles to the nurses.

"I've overworked my body and my muscles are tight. Any of you nurses up to a message to loosen them up?" LaJaye asked with a smile.

Mary had been in the lounge for less than half a minute before she figured out he was a baffoon. She could outrun him any day in an urban environment and she suspected the SAR senior NCO could aim better than him - maybe. Overall, this security officer was overcompensating for an underperforming piece of equipment. And that equipment wasn't in his arms.

"Fairly sure a chiropractor would be better at that. And they are trained. Nurses aren't," Mary interjected while she filled her mug with green tea.

"There is nothing wrong with my heart. I get plenty of heart activity in bed." LaJaye replied, obviously mistaking a cardiologist for a chiropractor. "My guns," LaJaye then flexed his arms, "Just need a little oiling."

"Yeah... well..." Mary shook her head, annoyed with the idiot. A part of her resisted laughing at him as she turned to face him. "...The lounge isn't your harem, and these ladies aren't concubines."

LaJaye looked Mary up and down. He took note of her plain, yet practical style, and lack of makeup. "I see you are trying to avoid finding a mate. Keep fighting the good fight." LaJaye told Mary with a nasty smirk.

Oh yeah... Mary made a note to put him as a high priority on her prank list.

"And a good fight it is, as you'll note no one is begging for my attention," Mary smiled sweetly. "Which is more than I can say for you... I'm pretty sure the only companionship your lovely guns can manage, is with your southern-most head."

Game, set, and match. Mary gleefully sat in a chair to watch him squirm and seethe, and try to banter with her some more. A few of the nurses were even amused by how well she outwitted him.

LaJaye stood in silence for a moment. He had a poor grasp of geography so Mary's insult never really sunk in.

"Your humor is dryer than your uterus." He finally replied. "As for me, I never beg for attention. When I sit down I put office furniture in a state of arousal."

"By golly, I just realized something..." Mary stood up, her voice laced in sarcasm. "Ladies? This man isn't wearing teal... So, I'm sorry lieutenant, but get out. These ladies don't need to get sick from your erroneously engorged tall tail of something that's likely only to be engorged by you looking and porn."

"Wait...what?" LaJaye didn't understand that Mary had just insulted him.

Two male corpsmen, who themselves had had enough of Sexington, got up. One walked LaJaye to the door. The other handed LaJaye his jacket. Before LaJaye could reply, they closed the door shut on his face.

"Thank you." One of the Corpsman told Mary as the two returned to their table.

"I'm just getting started with that ignoramus," Mary chucked with an evil, malicious smile. She had a scathing, arguably cruel fate planned for this pervert.



At eleven hundred hours the next morning, Sexington was sitting on an exam table. His trousers were around his knees and Doctor Anjou examining is genitalia.

"So, tell me again what happened?" Konrad asked.

"I awoke at zero five hundred hours as usual. I focused on my arms during my morning workout." LJaye bragged, obviously proud of his physic. "After my workout I showered and changed into my uniform. I was inspecting the armory at about eight hundred hours when my lads..." LaJaye referenced his crotch, "Started to itch. At first I ignored it but it kept getting worse and worse."

"Did you put any lotions or cream on your genitalia?" Konrad asked.

"With due respect Doctor, just as one doesn't add ketchup to prime rib my lads don't need any help." LaJaye boasted.

Konrad gave a short nod. As much as he didn't like LaJay, he was still a doctor and would treat the blowhard. Konrad then looked to his male medtech. "Scan the inflamed parts. I need to make a quick consultation." The medtech nodded and went to work. Konrad stepped away.

"Doctor Anjou to Doctor Roberts, are you there?" Konrad queried.

Mary had been lingering in the main receiving area for a while now. Mostly to listen to gossip about her latest adversary's predicament. So when Anjou commed her, she snickered at the chief surgeon's call with a snaggletooth grin.

"Very much so, Doc. What can I do for you?" She was only too happy to be involved now. A front-row seat to the karma she created for the douchebag.

"Hello Mary. Sexington is on my exam table. I suspect your hand in this, although I won't put your name in any report. I do need to return him to duty so tell me what you did, please?" Konrad asked.

"Itching powder, mixed with jalapeno juice," Mary spoke with much pride.

"Thanks. Anjou out." Konrad ended the talk.

Konrad returned to LaJaye. "You weren't near the medical lounge were you?" Konrad asked.

"Yes, I was there yesterday." LaJaye answered cautiously as a concerned look grew on Konrad's face.

"Oh. You aren't sexually active are you?" Konrad asked, nervously awaiting LaJaye's answer.

Konrad winced at LaJaye's response. "Ow, yeah." Konrad replied with a painful look on his face, "I'm glad you came to us early before this got worse."

"It could get worse?" A concerned LaJaye asked.

"Oh yes, much worse. There is a bug around the medical lounge that no one wants to talk about. It may lead to..." Konrad pursed his lips, "Castration."

LaJaye whimpered at Konrad's words. "There is something you can do to avoid that. One: stay away from the medical lounge. Two: Do not have any sex, not even masturbation, for a month." Konrad advised.

"Really?" LaJaye asked.

"You want to keep your manhood?" Konrad replied with a question.

LaJaye let out a pitiful moan.

"Good, the itch should go away in a few days. Until then, any time you're not on duty stay in your quarters." Konrad told LaJaye.

With all the dignity he could muster, LaJaye pulled up his trousers and left the exam room.

"I don't remember a bug in the lounge?" the medtech asked Konrad after LaJaye left.

"He was the bug. He bugged everyone there and they asked me to keep him out." Konrad replied.

"Anjou to Roberts, please let me know if Sexington bothers you again." Konrad told Mary.

"Can do," Mary acknowledged as Jay made his way into the receiving area. He had an odd walk which Mary found it difficult to keep a straight face to watch.

On his way out, LaJaye turned to see Mary with an odd smirk on her face. "What is she smiling about?" LaJaye asked himself as he left.

"Next time I'll use a more potent yield of jalapeno juice and put that on the back of his boxers," Mary snickered to one of the nurses close by. "Then sitting down will be impossible until he figures out he needs to wash it off - which might take him a week."

The Black Hawk had been home to Doctor Jayla Kij for years. So many years that leaving it had been a hard decision that she had almost declined. But, in the end, the call of leaving the chief medical officer spot and getting back to her first love of surgery was too tempting and she caved in. Given that the hospital ship needed as many Independent Duty Corpsmen who were cross-trained in combat, it had been easy to get Alex the same posting.

Yes, she would have passed if he couldn't come. He was more important than anything.

And speaking of Alex, he now walked through the halls of the Sherman Potter next to her and Silver- her pet horned fox- with his Spidermunk Lucas in a little glass travel box. Jayla kept her eye on the door numbers to her left, though, as that was the side their quarters were on.

"Here," she announced as the approached the door. She pressed her thumb to the panel next to the door and then stepped back to let Alex set his thumbprint- and bioscan- to the door as well.

The door opened and revealed their quarters to them. They were nicer than Alex was used to, a bit larger than he rated as a senior NCO.

"Not bad," he said. He grinned. "Especially since I'll be living with you here. After you." Alex gestured that Jayla should go in ahead of him. He had considered carrying her across the threshold, but decided against it. There might come a day when that would be the thing to do, and he wanted it to be special when he did it.

"It's big because when they need more hospital space, we have to vacate," she replied, entering their new quarters. "Those slots on the walls can be hospital beds, if we need them. If that happens, we have to report to..." she trailed off, consulting the PADD with their orders, "one of the staterooms." She wrinkled her nose. "Bunkbeds," she added.

"Well," Alex said with an almost feral grin. "We'll just have to make use of every spare moment of privacy we can get." He looked around some more. "There's lockable storage space... coded locks. If we do have to move, we can lock up anything really valuable. Here, Lucas, let's get you set up." Alex set everything down and replicated a litter box, which he put in an out of the way place and then took Lucas out of his carrier and plopped him down in the litter box. "There. I don't want to hear any excuses about not knowing where it is."

For his part, Lucas chirped at Alex, turned around in a circle three times, and promptly voided his bladder into the litter. He chirped again and then slowly meandered off to explore his new surroundings by spider-climbing up the bulkhead to the ceiling and looking around.

Alex quickly set up the habitat that Lucas spent much of his time in. He had become fairly territorial and not really interested in scurrying out the hatch every time Alex or Jayla left their quarters, though he would let Alex carry him around the ship. Mostly, he just spent time in his habitat or under furniture or, and this sometimes freaked out guests, he spun a web in a corner of the ceiling and hung out there.

Jayla let Silver off the leash and at once, the little fox ran to the litter box to sniff the spot where Lucas had so recently gone. "Why've you always got to sniff it?" she asked him. "It's gross!"

Silver gave a little yip and did a little jig.

"Whatever," she said, shaking her head. "I think it might be easier to keep most of our belongings in the lockable areas. Less to move," she explained to Alex.

"Agreed," Alex said. He came up behind Jayla and slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her on the neck. "Hi," he said in a whisper.

She giggled, half turning to look at him. “Hi,” she replied. “You say that like we haven’t seen each other in a week.”

"No," Alex said, kissing Jayla again. "I say that like a person who finds he has a moment alone with his lover and doesn't want to waste it. Never waste an opportunity to shower your significant other with affection, I always say."

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" she replied, leaning against him. "Was it my constant scowling as a teenager? Or maybe the time I knocked out a couple of your teeth?"

"You did have a very sexy scowl," Alex said. "Very intense. Of course, I thought almost everything you did back then was hot. The teeth... " Alex shrugged. "Battle wounds from the war of the sexes. Besides, it was kind of a dumbass thing for me to do, saying 'I love you' right before I left to join Starfleet."

“Maybe,” Jayla allowed. “But that still doesn’t excuse my actions. Ugh. If I’d have just listened to literally everybody, I would have been so much happier.”

Alex chuckled as he held Jayla close to him. "I think you just expressed the feelings of every adult looking back at their teenage years, my love. If I'd had the guts to just come out and tell you that I was head over heels for you, I might have been happier... or maybe neither of us would. Maybe we would have been miserable and we wouldn't have this now. Maybe we weren't ready for each other. The Great Bird of the Galaxy moves in mysterious ways."

"You're probably right," she replied. "I'll gladly sacrifice what could have been for what is. Because what is is really good." She turned to face him. "Including Lucas and Silver," she added. "They're enough children for now."

Alex looked Jayla in the eyes. "Are you sure?" he said. "Because if you want to go farther, adoption, surrogacy, anything like that; if you want children, that's a journey I'm willing to take with you."

"I know," she replied. "And that's great. But, where we're going... I don't think it's a place for children. And besides, I'm only 37. We have plenty of time for children."

"Alright," Alex said. "So... I'm going to see how comfortable our new bed is. Care to join me?"

"I'm always down for going to bed with you," she teased. "But seriously, yeah. I'm exhausted."

"Okay," Alex said, and then scooped Jayla up in his arms and began to carry her into the bedroom. "Off to bed with you!"

Jayla shrieked and giggled as he scooped her up. “You spoil me,” she said.

Once things had settled and everyone's motion sickness had been tended to, L'Noryn decided to head to the counselor's office.

Normally seeking out a professional ear was something she avoided. Likely the reason Starfleet Medical refused her transfer requests to any of the marine combat units. After her head injury, she had refused to let herself deal with the trauma. She knew it, the counselors knew it.

Having been in the profession long enough, L'Noryn knew what questions were asked and how to answer them, when trying to pass a mental health check. Especially when it came to attaining combat clearance. Overtime L'Noryn learned to open up. Maybe not to head shrinks, but to various friends across various postings.

For her, proximity to friends was the cure. After all, she survived the occupation on Bajor long before being picked up by Starfleet. This situation was different, however. A brand new posting. A MASH unit. While she had started to get to know many aboard, L'Noryn did not feel she could fully open up just yet.

Thus, this occasion was one of a few handfuls in which she found herself standing voluntarily in front of a counselor's office. No scrubs this time. Her standard duty uniform. There were so many start-and-stop pauses in front of the door chime that L'Noryn began to debate if this was such a good idea.

Stop it! You need to know why you slapped Roberts, the Head Nurse told herself mentally.

It bothered her on so many levels. Made her sick to her stomach to think upon. She'd never lost her professionalism with anyone, yet she struck the young surgeon in anger. So with a final nervous, shaky exhale, L'Noryn slapped the chime.

Peregrine looked up at the sound of the chime ringing through her office. She stretched, and swung her legs down to the ground. She had been sprawled sideways across one of the old, shabby, chairs she had in here.

"Enter," she called. She walked over to the small kitchen unit she'd specified as essential to her needs, and began to make a pot of tea. "Besides, you've been out there long enough to wear a patch in the carpet."

The door slid to one side. From that vantage, her office was about as un-impressive as it could get. The walls were painted a soft, deep, green. There were pictures hung in groups; seascapes, children's drawings carefully preserved in frames, and the inevitable proof of her qualifications. Three large, slightly worn, armchairs were grouped near the deep windowseat. Each one was of a different fabric, all harmonious, yet distinctly unique. There was a small kitchen area to one side.

'Well,' she thought, 'Interesting. L'Noryn... ah, yes. Usually in control, doesn't like people seeing her real emotions. Been through a lot. Professional to a fault. Got it.'

It was here that she was standing when her visitor entered the room. She waved a cup in the general direction of the chairs. "Get comfortable. Park your butt. Stretch. Stare out of the window. Do you have a preference for which type of tea you'd prefer. I like a sort of lemon mint at this time of day."

L'Noryn, for some reason, saw the seating choice as an inkblot test. Pick your pattern, reveal your true self. Stalling on the choice seemed like a good option, as she looked at the counselor's pictures on the walls. She also bit her lower lip with the other indecision to the type of tea. Her preference was something not many Federation ships carried in large stock - jumja tea leaves. Crushed, over 4 cubes of sugar, and iced with a brisk of lemon.

"I did not make an appointment, so I apologize for that," L'Noryn spoke with sincerity. Her eyes danced slowly across the paintings as she roamed around the office. A few times she even touched her tinted shades, as if she wanted to take them off, but thought better of it.

Peregrine waved a hand, while she poured hot water over some loose tea leaves in a pottery pot. She lifted the teapot and put it into a woven basket that she carried over to the seating area.

"Not a problem. I keep a couple of hours free every day around this time for folk who just want to visit."

She headed back to the kitchen and got two heavy mugs out of a cupboard. Each mug had two handles, and was a sort of black/blue colour. She put them on a tray, along with the requisite bowls and such that made having tea more pleasurable. This she carried back, placed on a different table, smiled at L'Noryn, and plonked herself down on a random chair.

"Look, I don't do the whole head shrink thing," she said quietly. "Sit, talk, don't talk. Have tea or not. Whatever is going to work for you. But know this is a safe place. You are welcome here."

L'Noryn decided to sit in a chair directly across from the Counselor. Then she looked at the tea and thought better of it - at least for the time being.

"I slapped someone out of anger the other day," L'Noryn confessed with even more anger at herself. Saying it out loud made it sound far worse than it was in her head. "Two days of living with Her, and my tolerance just gave. - I never hit people. Never."

"Alright, you slapped someone. Afterwards, you felt... " Peregrine trailed off, as she poured the tea. "Ashamed? Angry? Isolated? Afraid?" She finished making her tea and picked up the heavy mug in two hands.

She tilted the mug towards L'Noryn slightly, "You aren't the type to lose your temper easily."

"I was angry... Very angry." L'Noryn took the tea with a thankful nod. "I felt violated, exposed... Strangers I hardly know had knowledge of things I wasn't ready to reveal. And the one that did the revealing, I slapped... I have never let another's actions dictate my own."

L'Noryn frowned at that moment. Everyone was talking in the medical department about the altercation. It was not a kept secret that Mary and L'Noryn had a row and Mary was on Hygiene Duty - courtesy-sniffing everyone in OR for a while because of the altercation. Though the extent of the fight was in its seventh iteration of exaggerated fisticuffs and hair pulls.

The half-Deltan looked back up at Peregrine and wondered if the counselor knew exactly whom she had just talked around.

The laugh was heartfelt, and dissolved into giggles and wiping of eyes a moment later. Peregrine stared at the ceiling, thinking for a moment about all the rumours she'd heard about the incident.

"Sorry, it's just really, did you actually pick up a bedpan and use it to give 'em a black eye? That was the latest telling. It's grown from a mere open-handed slap to closed fists, to weapons. I'm waiting to hear that you threw someone out of an airlock next." She paused, waiting for the words to sink in, then asked, "What's under the anger?"

And now it was time to sit in silence, wait for words to flow, and sip tea. She picked up her mug and did exactly that, tucking her legs under her and looking as though they were actually old chums, having a tea party in space.

The silence dragged for a beat, and Peregrine prompted, "Anger doesn't come from nowhere. Talk to me about what's underneath that moment."

That was the twenty-thousand gold-pressed bars of latinum question. L'Noryn closed her eyes and looked back at the incident. She was having a minor panic attack before she entered the medical lab where Mary was working. Not much was needed to send her over the line.

"Panic," L'Noryn finally answered with a firm nod. "The younger Honeycutt came with me to help find my hormone-suppressant bracelet... Mary took it to prove a stupid point and I didn't feel in control of the moments that preceded entering her lab."

L'Noryn was careful not to say she felt a physical attraction to Theo. But then, just the thought of him caused butterflies and a brief moment of wonder - Which ended the second her bracelet hissed with the small blue light. The half-Deltan instantly turned red with embarrassment to have it go off in front of Peregrine.

Peregrine ignored it. She had a long practice of not drawing attention to things that might cause more discomfort. Her Trauma Informed Practice background was strong, and she believed wholeheartedly that there were many things that simply were not acceptable. To draw attention to something that was, really, a normal mundane part of a Deltan's life in Starfleet would potentially cause that person harm. But she did note the response. Relationships and emotional connections in a unit like this one could cause devastation if something went awry. It was part of her role, and scope, to be aware of them.

"I'd be so upset," she said quietly. "If someone took something I needed to do my job, I would be hunting them down to kick out their kneecaps. I am impressed that you were able to keep your composure as well as you did. Especially if you were dealing with heightened panic reactions to the moment. Speaks highly of how well you cope under pressure. This is a lot of pressure too, isn't it, this particular mission. Holding all of those lives in your hands. Hard, don't you think?"

L'Noryn was too busy processing Peregrine's assessment of the slap to answer her current question. To be told her response to Mary was understandable and something others would likely do in her situation, caused her to relax greatly. The half-Deltan even sunk more comfortably in her chair with this new revelation.

"Hard, yes," L'Noryn finally responded. "Not to sound arrogant, but it's a pressure I've dealt with and had to overcome before in a warzone. I'm not panicked about it, because I know we have a good group of people that can handle the casualties we'll eventually take on... But I am worried for the younger ones in the unit with hardly any experience. Many crack under pressure and I'm concerned for them."

"Yes, me too." Peregrine's voice was soft, but there was an underlying steel to it. "Some of them are going to struggle to keep going, under what we are going to ask them to do. Most of them will hide it from everyone, hoping that nobody will notice. Refusing to look after their own selves, because their sense of duty will get in the way. Those are the ones I'm going to be watching for." Those are the ones I'll be taking off duty, if I need to, she thought.

Although she had switched topics, slightly, she was still watching the Deltan. She noted that L'Noryn's shoulders were relaxing a little, and her body language had softened. She took a good swallow of her tea, and put the mug down. Time to prod a little bit, just gently.

"Trouble is, when something happens that might cause ripples in the team, it's up to us authority figure types to work out how to address that. Repair relationships and all that stuff. Quite boring stuff all round, but necessary. " She kept her voice conversational, and her own body language loose and unthreatening. But hoped that the Head Nurse would understand her message. It was L'Noryn's responsibility to go and make apologies, even though her response was understandable.

"I've tried to make peace with Roberts," L'Noryn spoke conversationally. "She made it clear she wants nothing to do with me, and maybe that's for the better. She stole my hormone suppressant bracelet to prove a petty point and she nearly put the crew in danger because of it. So..."

The half-Deltan shrugged in defeat. "Intervention was attempted, she told me to get lost. So I'm respecting her wishes."

"Sounds like I need to chat with her too then," Peregrine replied. "We don't have to like each other, but we do all have to trust and respect each other. Especially this far out. Can't exactly transfer off a ship when there's no way to do so." She paused, took a breath and then continued, "I can't even imagine what it must be like to have to wear one of them all the time. That is so hard, such a huge responsibility to have on your shoulders. I don't envy you at all."

She raised the teapot with a quirk of her eyebrow, asking silently if L'Noryn wanted a refill.

"I didn't have a choice in the matter," L'Noryn spoke with indifference. "No Deltans, where I grew up. No telepaths for that matter. So when my Vulcan foster mom took custody of me, she sought to help me... Puberty for Deltans is rough. More so for one like me with little control over my gifts. So it was either temporary chemical castration via my bracelet, or remove my pituitary glands to reduce the amount of hormones I was producing."

L'Noryn shook her head in the negative to the tea. "Bracelet keeps me from broadcasting exceptionally strong sensual hormones that humans and many species like them are not fully prepared for."

Peregrine raised a hand, "Oh yes, yes.. no thank you. I might not have ever experienced it, but I've been made well aware of the repercussions of you not having the bracelet on hand. That's got to be so irritating to have to keep it around though. Did anyone ever explore any other options for you?"

"My biological parents are still alive," L'Noryn spoke, as if this fact and it's exceeding ones did not bother her. "Until my Deltan parent comes forward and takes responsibility for the celibacy oath she broke, she cannot be dealt with by the Deltan government. And I was not born on the Deltan homeworld, so they will not accept me as one of them until my mom takes responsibility for me."

L'Noryn made a gesture with her hand above her head to suggest a dizzying circle. "Basically, it's considered bad form and against our culture to interfere in the upbringing and training of Deltan children that aren't part of your family unit. My Deltan parent lives, so rather she is excommunicated or not for her deed that spawned me, she still needs to give permission to the Deltan government or a Deltan family unit of her choosing to take me in and train me fully... But my Vulcan parents have done what they could to teach me various ways of controlling my telepathy and numbing abilities. And I learned a lot from Betazeds during my stint at Uni. So it all works out in the end."

Peregrine looked down at her hands. She'd had a fairly normal Starfleet brat upbringing, bouncing from one ship to another for a few years. A couple on some world out in the middle of nowhere, then back to the ships again. But she had always known her parents.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "I can see that you are well adjusted to your history, and I am so glad that you got some stability. But I am also so sorry that you went through that. I hear you saying that you have had a lot of help in the past, and thankfully it sounds like your Vulcan upbringing was very stable. Did I hear that properly?"

"You did," L'Noryn nodded in the affirmative. "My mom taught me discipline techniques - and still does give me pointers when I call her over subspace - to help focus my thoughts. I'm much better now than when I first met her... And she encouraged me to socialize with any emotionally-inclined children on the ship. When it came time to start university, she also strongly pushed Betazed medical schools, so I could learn what sensual telepaths are like as well as get top education in the nursing field."

"Oh that's so interesting!" Peregrine "Hands on experience, so you get the body memory of it all, instead of it being only on paper. That's really clever. So, with all of that, I can see why having a perfectly normal, but slightly unprofessional, lapse in judgement would really irritate. What would you like to see moving forward, so that your team is working well together?"

"I've worked with a few rude and vulgar-mouthed marines hours-end on long shuttle flights, transporting injured from one place to another," L'Noryn explained. "Working around folks I don't care much for, is never an issue. I can be professional if I have to. But I'm in a position where if I don't want to be around someone, I've an ED nurse chief that can make sure that doesn't happen much on the OR schedules... In time, when I've seen her work, when she's seen my work, we'll both have better grounds to judge the other, and then I'll try to make peace again. For now, Time will heal part of her issues with me. I'll resolve the rest when the right moment occurs."

"I can work with that." Peregrine nodded, and looked at the wall as she thought about some options. "We can always get your shift rotations changed around a touch, so that you rarely have to be in contact too. There will be times when we are on call round the clock."

She smiled, returning her gaze to L'Noryn. "So, what I have gathered from our chat is that you are bothered by the fact that you lost your temper for a moment, feel remorseful about that, but understand that you were under immense stress at that time. You have already come up with a plan for how to move forward. You're feeling a lot more in control of your emotions currently, and you are able to leave this office, knowing that you are a capable, responsible nurse. Also one that I trust with my life." She chuckled. "Literally, as it happens. Sound about right?"

"It does... though I don't think switching schedules is a good option." L'Noryn pondered. "Complete avoidance of each other doesn't really solve anything. Just a bit of space, yes."

"It's a viable solution, and if the recommendation comes from my office, it's seen as the counselor trying to keep the peace. Nothing more. How about we check in soon. Say... two weeks?" Peregrine reached across to a PADD sitting on a nearby table. She tapped the screen to bring up her calendar.

"If no surprises come our way, I'll have time then."

"Two weeks, sure," L'Noryn agreed, albeit she wasn't all too thrilled with the notion of scheduled sessions. "If Roberts becomes more of a problem, I'll just shift the nurses' rosters myself, though... I don't want people in my personal business with Her."

Peregrine smiled, and nodded. "Perfect," she said. "I knew you'd come up with a solution that worked nicely for you." She paused, tilted her head to one side slightly as though she was thinking, and then chuckled.

"The check in session? Do you like chocolate? Let's do something with chocolate."

As L'Noryn had stood and walked to the door to exit, she pondered Peri's question. "I developed a bit of a sweet tooth on Betazed, yeah... That's fine. Until next time."

L'Noryn gave her an appreciative smile and a nod of respect before crossed the threshold out of the room.

The door slid into place. Peregrine leaned across and tapped her PADD with a finger.

"Computer, Chief Counsellor's Log..." she said, and filed her report quickly. Best to do these sort of things while the thoughts were still fresh.

Whistling softly as she walked, Peregrine Trevena walked somewhat aimlessly-but-not-totally-without-a-destination down the corridor. She swung a bottle of wine, and two wine glasses, in one hand, and was holding a bag in the other. Many of the crew she passed, greeted her with waves or smiles. She was already getting a bit of a clientele, which was exactly as it should be. Some of them were so terribly young, and more than a few already so terribly traumatized. Gods of the Seven Layers, she was going to be busy.

Peregrine took a right turn, looked around, shrugged and turned around to walk in the opposite direction. Then took a right turn, sighed, turned around again and went back to her original route. Somehow, she thought, she'd end up learning this route from her office to the Captain's office only too well over the next few months.

Finally she found herself outside the right door. Alright, if she was honest, she'd gotten lost four times, repeated the same route twice, and was starting to wonder if the wine was too warm to drink properly now. But here she was, standing outside Captain Pierce Hunnicutt's office. She turned slightly and jabbed the 'Let Me In, I'm Out Here.' button with an elbow.

"Lieutenant Trevena," she announced quietly, "hoping to see the Captain?" well, even if there wasn't a secretary, it didn't hurt to be polite. Better than what was likely to happen once they got to know each other's style a bit.

And indeed there wasn't a secretary.

Pierce paused, his cup of tea to his lips and blinked. "Come in," he called, sipping the tea and setting the cup down.

With a smile on her face, Peregrine walked into his office. She took a look around the place, nodding slightly. Then realized she was being a bit too long doing so. She grinned, and raised her hands.

"I brought gifts," she said. "I thought it was time we chatted a little, if you've got the time. Does help when the Chief Counsellor and the Captain actually have a clue about each other."

She set the bag down and then the wine bottle and glasses. Pointing at the bag, she said quietly, "Best cookies in the universe."

"Ooo! Cookies!" replied Pierce, immediately diving into the bag and bringing one out. "You must have read my profile. Or my mind. I'm not sure which I prefer." And he bit into the cookie. "Oh, wow!" he exclaimed. "You weren't kidding. These really are the best cookies in the universe!"

The laugh that burst out of her was as genuine as it got. She liked this one's attitude already. She poured herself a drink, raising the bottle to him in invitation.

"Please," agreed Pierce with a nod, holding the second glass for her to pour. Once she did, he swirled it a bit, then sniffed. "Ooo, nice," he said. "A lovely floral bouquet with a hint of sweetness. Actually, I wouldn't know the difference between the best port and moonshine. But, I like to pretend. You know, to sound important." He grinned as he took a sip. "Have a seat."

"So," she began, finding a spot to sit. "We're going to have our hands full with the crew once the reality of their lives settles in. How do you want me to handle things?"

"However you see fit," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not one to micromanage. As long as the crew's mental health is good, I'm not concerned with your methods."

"I'm known for being a bit unorthodox." She smiled at him and raised her glass. "Even when it comes to the command crew. I'll be checking in on you too, and your immediate team. Check up from the neck up, occasionally. If you go sideways, the crew will fall apart pretty quickly."

She put down her glass, and something ineffable shifted in her eyes. Suddenly she wasn't the bumbling, slapdash, woman who had blustered her way into his office. She hadn't moved, hadn't changed expression. But the professionalism was evident. There was a moment of silence, then she quirked the side of her mouth and went back to being the one easy to overlook.

"So, how is your brain at the moment?" she asked, in a wry tone of voice. "Looking forward to the depths of beyond?"

"Absolutely," answered Pierce around a mouthful of cookie. He quickly swallowed and set the remainder aside. "There's not much left of our galaxy to explore. This one, though, nobody's been here. Well, except Carcosia, but I really don't know how much exploring they get up to with the Myriad and the Concordance trying to expand in all directions. And even though we're not exploring, the rest of them are going to need medical assistance from time to time and we'll get to see the sights along with them. It's a pretty exciting prospect."

"Isn't it though?" She didn't comment on the fact he hadn't answered the query about how well he was doing. That would come later. "So, how do we go about keeping you, and the command crew, more or less sane? I'm thinking... monthly dinner parties. Or movie nights. Maybe even card competitions."

The laugh that burbled out was pure, and genuine. "Or whatever helps," she managed around the giggles. "We should have a think about that, for next time we have a meeting. How does weekly, or every two weeks sound?"

"Ambitious, are we?" replied Pierce, amused. "Tell you what: let's meet again in a week and go from there. Probably we won't have to stick to weekly meetings, but one never knows. Although," he added, taking another bite of his cookie, "if you bring me more of these, I'll be happy to meet daily."

"Nah, just doing my job. You have to get them there, and keep things running. I have to keep them more or less sane." She snagged another cookie, and waved it in his direction. "Lucky for you, I like baking. It keeps my brain happy."

"Don't let the crew know," advised Pierce, "or you'll be doing more baking than counseling." And he chose another cookie with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Water bottles chilled in an open ice cooler by the main door, at the back of the classroom. The room was similar to a pilot's wardroom. Nice leather, cushy chairs in rows that were positioned behind high-tech LCARS-integrated desks. Each row sat on a small elevated stair so everyone could see the two podiums to each side of the large viewscreen at the front of the classroom.

L'Noryn wanted everyone relaxed and ready for some grim, hard truths that most on the ship were grossly unprepared for. That said, a good majority of people assigned to MASH units were pretty good at adapting within the first three months. Their first three months, however, were going to have to have high bars if they were going to get a passing unit grade on their first inspection.

The half-Deltan was ready to do just that, but getting the crew to the level Pierce asked of her? She was still trying to figure out the logistics. Teaching MASH principles was the easy part. How to be good soldiers in warzones? While she had her share of combat hardships, that did not mean she was good at teaching warfare.

No, she needed help in that area. She'd likely have to pick the brain of their IDC later to devise that training program. Today, however, was about introducing the demands and hardships of MASH units.

With that in mind, she stood at the podium to the left of the massive LCARS screen, eating a Betazed truffle danish as she went over her notes.

"Seriously. He did," Cate was saying to the Surgical Nurse Supervisor accompanying her.

The nurse laughed. "I wish I had been there to see that," she said as the two women walked through the door.

"It was priceless," Cate laughed as she took a seat.

Konrad was finishing some notes on his PaDD as he entered. He noticed L'Noryn and made his way to her. "Are you here to crack the whip on the senior staff?" Konrad asked mirthfully.

"I would... if someone hadn't already hidden the whip." L'Noryn returned just as mirthfully, then pointed to her PADD. "MASH Orientation. I have to cover that first, but I'm sure you'll be in more orientation briefs. This is just part 1. Part 2 is seeing how many surgeons can pitch a tent... I'm predicting the same amount to screw in a lightbulb."

By her tone, it was clear she was still lightly teasing. The old, fun rivalry between doctors and nurses.

Cate snickered and nodded, giving her boss a thumbs up.

"Oh, us doctors are terrible at manual labor. Luckily, some of us found side gigs as medical practitioners." Anjou replied. "I'm sure there will be a recording saved of the tent going up. You know, when any of us doctors get a case of the big head."

"Just wait until I put you in groups," L'Noryn teased and winked at Cate. "...One of your partners is adept at diarrhea of the mouth. So almost a given, it'll be a vid to record."

"I would be disappointed if otherwise." Anjou agreed.

Pierce "never late but never early" Hunnicutt arrived right on time, as expected. Since he was familiar with the subject matter- although admittedly less so than the head nurse- he made his way to the front so he could assist if necessary. "Morning, boss," he said to Anjou with a grin. "Nurse," he added to L'Noryn.

L'Noryn pointed to the podium on the other side. "I figured you'd want to talk about the combat theater we're headed into at some point, Sir. So the other podium is yours if you need, it."

"I hadn't thought about that, but it's probably not a good idea now that you mention it," Pierce replied.

At the words "combat theater" Cate's interest peeked. Old senses heightened and old memories flashed through the dark corners of her mind. It had been a long time but some things are never gone...just buried.

Alexei 'I was really Gods be Damned busy and now I have to come to this meeting but I'm happy to see you all anyway' Andreyovich Donaurov arrived in a fairly decent mood and found a seat. "So sorry to be late, Lieutenant. Please, don't let me interrupt any more than my tardy arrival already has."

"Still waiting on a few stragglers," L'Noryn waved off with a friendly smile.

Alex Rylan arrived shortly after. As the senior NCO of the Medical Department and all of its sub-departments, his responsibilities and scope of practice were fairly broad, making his attendance at meetings like this crucial.

Mary's arrival was not unnoticed, at least from where L'Noryn stood. The female human surgeon was a washed-out shade of blue. What a postmortem smurf would look like if left dead for a few days. Karma came with poetic justice, but instead of laughing about it, the Head Nurse dove her head back into her PADD to hide her glee.

Mary, the poor gal, tried to walk the room as if this were a perfectly normal thing - being a blue human. She pulled a bottle of water from the cooler and found a chair close to the ER's ranking nurse and pulled up the LCARS in front of her.

The Surgical Nursing Supervisor on Cate's left elbowed Cate when Dr. Roberts sat down next to her. She had informed Cate of the rumors going around the Surgical Department about an incident of theft involving the doctor and their boss.

Cate gave Roberts a sidelong glance and quirked an eyebrow. She glanced at L'Noryn and then smirked. Looks like revenge was sweet, Cate thought to herself.

Picking up his pace a little because he knew he was late, Theo ducked into the room just behind Dr Roberts. He followed closely behind her, studying the stonewashed unnatural colour pervading her form and couldn't help but find this highly amusing. With a deft motion, Theo slid into the same row and took up a seat next to Mary. "What happened to you?" He whispered, but the grin on his face shone in his gaze despite his best efforts to be kind.

Mary pursed her lips, forgetting Cate was on the other side of her. She glared at Theo. Of course, he'd be in on it.

"Oh... Don't think I don't know what you know I think you did," Mary spoke with a semi-quiet hiss. She paused a moment to rethink the sentence and gave a satisfied nod back at Theo.

Theo poked an index finger against his own chest and canted his head quizzically back at the blue woman beside him. "Me?" He asked, his face the picture of genuine innocence.

"Those bedroom eyes don't work on me, Mister," Mary chastized, then double-took. "OK... On normal occasions, yes. But not now. And... well... If this is how you and L'Noryn respond to a little bit of melon exploding in your faces - which was sheer accidental - then we-are-at-war."

"Oh," Theo grinned, amused at Mary's backtracking and accusations. "You think I did that?" He shook his head and leaned a little closer as he added, quietly. "No hard feelings re the melon, but - if you're initiating a prank war? It's on."

All pretense of listening to the other officers around L'Noryn went out the window as she heard Mary's rant and facepalmed into stifled laughter. While L'Noryn had zero to do with the blue hue on Mary, it was still pretty funny. More so to watch the human surgeon descend into paranoia over it.

Cate thought of the little girl in Willie Wonka who ate too many blueberries and leaned back in her chair pretending to cough and cover her mouth with her hand to hide a smirk. But her propensity for sarcasm overwhelmed her and she said, "it's not that bad, Doc. You match your uniform now."

Mary shook her head, pursed her lips, and fold her arms in complete defeat. From that point, she began to brood over her next course of action.

She perched on a seat towards the back of the room. Legs crossed under her, and hands loosely resting on her thighs. The woman was quiet, almost unobtrusive. Lieutenant Peregrin Trevena's eyes never stopped moving, she watched each person closely. Noted the relationships already in place and, more importantly, noted the ones that needed strengthening. They'd be a good lot, she decided. Passionate. Alive.

If they were lucky, they'd stay alive. She'd take the chance that she could keep their emotions together long enough to survive. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of a time not that long before, in a place not that dissimilar to the one they were going to. Of the people lost, and the ones who found themselves, in that desolate place.

After a moment, she stood, ruffled her hair a little, moved two seats to her left, and ensured that she was noticed. "Sorry!" she called out in a bright voice. "Just getting settled in. Did I miss anything?"

"Oh no," L'Noryn promised as she pulled out a water bottle from inside her podium. Her face was very red from laughing so hard. "Was just about to get started... so if everyone not seated could please do so now, we'll get started."

At last the lone Bynar known as Mister Cipher arrived with his diminuitive robotic assistant in tow. "Forgive my tardiness," he said coolly.

"Mister Cipher was performing hygienic practices," his wiry robotic assistant trilled with a helpful robotic digit held in the air.

Cipher rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, Logarithm. Enable Sentry Mode."

The robot called Logarithm stood upright and began oscillating his blocky head from side to side.

"Just here, then?" Cipher asked as he approached the nearest remaining empty chair.

L'Noryn smiled at everyone in front of her, if only for a moment before she began. Confidant practiced. She'd done this many times.

"For those that do not know me, I'm L'Noryn, your Head Nurse. And I know many of you are new to the Fleet and thus have no experience working in any hospital," L'Noryn started with a tone of sympathy. Her eyes fell on Mary more than the enlisted with the next sentence, "There are also people in this room who have worked in Level 1 Trauma Centers and have a small taste of what we're about to dive into."

L'Noryn turned on the big LCARS screen, which showed various pictures of injured people dating as far as the Federation/Cardassian Border Wars.

"I can count the number of people in this room who've served in MASH units and other types of frontline medical posts on one hand," L'Noryn stated soberly, though she chose not to make eye contact with those people. She did not want to bring up unwanted psychological trauma to them. "It's these people, regardless of rank, you listen to when you're tired from a 5-day OR run. They have seen these injuries and know which Starfleet treatments take too long, which ones to ignore and throw the book out on. Which cases you follow to-the-letter."

L'Noryn stopped the slides at a very specific holopicture. Someone who'd had their face melted. The skin was gone in most places, replaced by infected, slimy puss. Hair had been burnt beyond recognizing.

"This was Lance Corporal Agatha Sparks. Marine Fighter Corps Flight Crew 168," L'Noryn informed with a hint of sadness in her voice. "Halfway through my first tour of duty on Merx III, the enemy started using new types of energy-based ground weapons against Federation Infantry forces... No one knew how to save this girl and two-hundred just like her. Some sort of poison was grown with the crystals used in the mortars that we had no antidote for at the time."

L'Noryn paused a moment to allow the room to react to this bit of news.

Pierce nodded, face hard but eyes troubled. He, too, had seen the ravages of war and while he had seen many people like this woman, it still broke his heart.

Cipher only stiffened at the sight. Gnarly, to be sure, but he'd seen worse.

Staring at the image of the destroyed female's face, Theo's expression was a thousand-yard stare, his hands clenched in loose fists at his sides. In his mind, the screams resounded an echo back to his own limited experience of war. That hadn't been from a medical point of view, but next time, L'Noryn had cooly reminded him, it would be.

Alexei, who had spent most of his career dealing with both epidemics and bioweapons, was sadly somewhat numb to the horrors of war. Some of the bioweapons used by the Dominion and their Cardassian and Breen allies had effects that had him struggling not to vomit in his biohazard suit. Still, he wasn't so numb that he couldn't find the image horrifying, if only in a detached way. That detachment was the only thing that allowed him to do his work, work where frequently all he could do was quarantine the infected until the contagion burned itself out.

"I tell this story because MASH units see a very personal aspect of war you rarely see on a station or ship," L'Noryn went on, adjusted her tinted glasses and continued. "The ground units we try to heal... A good portion of them we'll have some sort of working - if not friendly relationship with... And you will watch young lives be pulled from this existence. And sometimes it does take longer than we want to find a method to save lives from new and more lethal weapons used against patients."

Peregrine cleared her throat. She shifted in her seat, looked around and then quietly said into the silence, "Lieutenant Peregrine Trevena, Chief Counsellor. That's me. That's why I'm here then. If things start to get overwhelming, I'm the person you come to. But you should all know, I'll be watching too so if you don't come to me, chances are I'll be bugging you. Probably with cookies." She nodded to L'Noryn, "The Head Nurse is right to front load you with this. I'd like to recommend that you take that to your teams and ensure they know too."

The woman wasn't wrong. Cipher had collected more than his share of amputated body parts and severed heads from hull breaches. "Learn to focus on the ones you win," he offered solemnly. "There are enough losses to fill a Spacedock. The wins are the only things that count. They have to be..." His voice trailed off a bit before he put his hand in the air and drew an invisible tally mark for Logarithm to record. Yet another point in The Game.

"Both of our colleagues are correct," the Head Nurse affirmed. "For most people, it takes about three months to adjust to the long stretches of the boredom, followed by long stretches of images like the one I showed you. It's expected that exhaustion both mentally and physically will befall us. But using your peers around you to ask for help and guidance is key to your success here."

L'Noryn took a swig of her water before she went to a new slide. From behind her, a side view of the Potter was shown. Then it split off into a tree of sorts. Medical hoppers and critical care shuttles were placed below it, then a picture of a red cross tent. And last was a singular stick figure with a red cross on its chest.

"It will take time to adjust to the lifestyle of a MASH unit," L'Noryn went on to say. "Just know you have resources and shoulders to lean on when things get too overwhelming for you."

"That looks like a triage tree," Mary pointed out, mostly because her way of dealing with overwhelming things was... not dealing. And she rather was keen to move away from the grotesque pictures L'Noryn had just shown.

"Indeed," L'Noyrn nodded. Glad to have an instant segway into the next subject. "Battlefield triage is very simple, but also very political. And if we're told by top brass to prioritize a certain way... well... I won't say to ignore them, but sometimes doing the right thing could mean career suicide."

L'Noryn frowned. She never liked being told to all-stop on critical patients, just so some admiral's son could be worked on. When the half-Deltan pointed to the singular person at the bottom of the tree, she went on to say, "Corpsmen on the battalion level, are the ones to start the process. They call in Potter when their combat units take casualties. So we aren't calling the shots initially. We have to trust the corpsmen on the ground are doing their jobs."

L'Noryn then pointed to the red cross tent. "If we have a MASH unit on the ground, they are the next-in-line to play God. Most wounded come in via short-range transporter. Sometimes a shuttle... Here is where Military Triage comes into effect. And it is this - Federation Officers, Allied Officers, Federation Enlisted, Allied Enlisted. Then the enemy."

The half-Deltan paused to see the room's reactions.

The Surgical Nursing Supervisor leaned closer to Cate and whispered, "what about civilians?"

"Hopefully there won't be any," Cate whispered back. "Besides....you'll be in the Surgical Theater and everyone will already be triaged by Yours Truly and my nurses," she added with a wink. Cate glanced around the room and made a mental note to review the records those being assigned to the MASH to see who had field experience and who didn't so she knew who needed coaching. Hopefully none. At least she could be assured that all of the Potter's medical personnel were the best of the best so even a total rookie would be quick to learn.

"The only time an enemy skips the line is if they are defecting," L'Noryn went on to inform. "And civilians take priority before enemies unless a member of the Federation Council or Fleet Command issues special consideration - which our CO will inform when those times occur."

L'Noryn half-smiled, for she too was not all that thrilled with political interference. Good people died because of it, she had seen, first hand. In closing, she put her hands behind her back and sighed with annoyance.

"As I said... Political shenanigans will sometimes interfere. Ignore or obey those triage orders at your own peril," She ended and noted to Pierce. "If no one has any concerns or questions, I turn the floor over to our CO, to discuss the combat theater we're entering."

Once it was clear there were no more questions, Pierce stepped to the front. “We don't know a lot about this area, but what we do know is that most species are hostile,” he said. “Those who haven't been taken over by the fungus are either afraid of being taken by it, slave traders, or on a power trip the size of Jupiter. There is a pre-warp civilization- the Xilosians, a representative is en route as we speak- that the earlier group is helping to rehome after an entity called the Concordance destroyed their world. More about them later. But, they're friendly, at least so far. Beyond them, there aren't many natives we can trust. They have weapons we don't understand that cause damage to the ship and wounds to humanoids that we have no idea how to heal. There is some research, but not a lot. Luckily, we have a great research team of our own,” he added, gesturing to the members of the research team who were present. “And we'll document everything we try- what works, what fails, what goes sideways, and even what turns us into coyotes. You laugh, but this is a strange galaxy; anything's possible.”

You wanted back in the action, Cate thought to herself. "Be careful what you wish for," she mumbled, softly.

"We'll start with Slave Traders," continued Pierce. "It's best to avoid them, however, if you do get kidnapped, Starfleet's official action is to buy our people back using medical-grade saline. Yes, you heard me correctly. They accept Saline as payment. And not a ton of it, either. I don't know if they can't replicate it or if they simply can't replicate anything, but there it is. They accept it, we can make as much as they want, so that's what we're going with." He shrugged as if it was the craziest thing he'd ever heard.

"As for the different species here, assume they are hostile," he continued. "We don't know enough about them to know who actually is hostile and who simply misunderstands our intentions. It's much safer to make amends later. Case in point, the Reka," he added, waving one hand to reveal a giant, four-eyed bird with meaty claws for feet, dressed in armor and carrying a graceful looking staff that somehow looked very frightening with all the armor. "It is our understanding that they have been enslaved. They act as grunts for the Myriad, a decidedly hostile group. For now, we're treating them as a hostile force of their own, but there have been a few who have joined our side. And when I say few, I mean few. I think the total is two. We're taking those two at their word and assuming they want to be freed."

Cipher was concerned about hostile forces. Combat meant more structural damage and opportunities to lose lives.

"Just how close are we to their territories?" the Bynar asked.

"Not far," replied Pierce grimly. A wave of his hand brought up a map that showed Myriad controlled space as well as Concordance controlled space with Canopus station nestled between them. "Canopus station," he continued, indicating the little Starfleet insignia, "is our home base, so to speak. We are assuming that the Reka are to be found all through this red area, which is Myriad space."

Hostile species everywhere, destroyed worlds, unique aliens and mysterious weaponry, complicated as yet uncharted injuries and new medical tricks to learn. Opportunities to be kidnapped too, just to round off the list. Definitely sounded as if they were in the right place to really make a difference, considered Theo, which made this worth the terrible journey and the ongoing concerns of starship living.

"So very much a 'we're off the map, here be monsters' kinda situation," Theo noted rather than asked, a wry smile as he regarded his father's grim expression. "How much do we know about the Myriad?" He asked.

“Not a lot,” answered Pierce. “But as it happens, we don't need to know much. The most important bit of information is that they have their own Prime Directive and it's exactly the opposite of our own. They interfere in the natural development of species in order to keep them from getting too far into space travel. They also have a nasty habit of manufacturing worldwide disasters so they can step in and save the day.

“They have two slave races. The Reka we've already talked about. The second is known as Ambulatory Hives. We don't know a lot about them, but they appear to have been enslaved willingly. Each individual, if I can actually use that word, is comprised of a colony of nematode-like worms. They can take many different forms, but those who serve the Myriad directly are fond of a sort of hulking humanoid with rocks interspersed in their limbs. I wish we had an image. Partly because I'd love to show it to you, but also because I've never actually seen one, either.

“There is a third race, known as the Shishimi, who have gladly accepted Myriad rule in favor of making better wine. I'm told one lives on Canopus station and only one word was in the personality profile they sent us.” With a couple of hand gestures, the name “Bar'soon'fo'da'gree'nars,” followed by a plethora of titles and then the single word, “ANNOYING.” He grinned at it. “There is more in a secondary file, but their Chief Engineer felt that this is the most important thing for us to know about him.”

Mary fought hard not to giggle, given her present blueberry look. Last thing she wanted was to turn a shade a purple.

Konrad was a wine connoisseur but selling out ones race into slavery for better wine was asking too much. Indentured servitude? Maybe, but not slavery.

As he wrapped his brain around the elongated name of this wine-driven race's individual representative, Theo chuckled. He was definitely looking forward to meeting this engineer with the fun sense of humour. Bar'soon-etc too. Brave new worlds and all that.

TAG ALL for reactions- feel free to giggle :P

With a grin of his own, Pierce's eyes swept the room. “I have no idea if this is common of his race or if it's just this particular one but if wine is more important than freedom, well! I guess that says it all,” he added, then sobered. “Anyway, back to the Myriad. The last piece of important information I have for you is that they were able to take remote control of a Starfleet ship and use it to attack a defenseless colony. They seem to live and breathe data as digitally uploaded consciousness. They can inhabit their ships or proxy bodies they've designed to look beautiful. The team that retrofitted our ship did a lot of studying and testing and they believe that the isolated systems they've designed will at least slow them down. Three of the team are in our Engineering department so they can watch for interference and hopefully make changes as needed.

“However, we hope that won't even be necessary. They don't seem interested in enslaving us and they have largely left the Carcosians alone. I'm assuming everyone has read the report on the Carcosians,” he added, glancing around at them all. A representative ship of the Reciprocity of Carcosian Navy- a forerunner of the Federation consisting of Humans, Trills, and Vulcans- had appeared near Canopus and the station crew had helped them get their ship back in running order. They had, apparently, been in Messier 4 for a long time, but still, nobody had thought to ask how they had ended up there. “We're assuming that they're assuming that we're more Carcosians. Which, I suppose, in a way that's not far from the truth.”

"Are 'we' - and I mean anyone from the Federation - planning on asking rather than assuming?" Theo asked, intrigued as to how long such a potentially fragile common ground might last and what the implications might be if there was another route here besides the Long Jump. "Or is that a dumb question?"

"Well, I don't think the Concordance or the Myriad will answer questions," Pierce replied. "Or did you mean the Carcosians? No, they already know who we are and where we're from. They're friendly."

"Ah sorry," Theo clarified his ambiguous question in a light tone. "I meant do we ask the Carcosians how they got here?"

"Oh, I see," replied Pierce with a grin. "Yes, I imagine that conversation will come up eventually. Although, maybe someone did ask and it didn't get reported."

"I believe are still in dock," Commander Sjet said from where he sat in the back, holding up a wall and doing a solid impression of good 20th century Soviet architecture. "Perhaps is best if we go ask our selves? Be friendly. Take perhaps borsht as welcome to neighbourhood gift?"

"I fuggin' love borsht!" Sekhem shouted. She had been sleeping through the entire presentation and awakened only at the mention of food. However, the Tellarite variation of borsht was probably closer to haggus.

"Don't we all?" laughed Pierce. "All right, I'll see if the Carcosians would be interested in having a chat. I've been meaning to talk to them anyway. Any more questions?"

TAG for reactions/questions

"I do have some announcements before we adjourn," L'Noryn interjected respectfully. "I will be offering Flight Surgeon and Flight Nurse training. However, you will need Basic Flight already completed before signing up for the class - which is in my office. While this is not required of anyone in the room, we do need a few more willing bodies to run the surgical cabins of the Powell-Class Critical Care shuttles. And any Corpsmen or IDC with Flight Crew wings are likewise encouraged to sign-up to help manage wounded on the medical hoppers. Master Warrant Cipher runs the SAR Wing. So any seeking to join his reserve rosters should seek him out."

The announcement got Cipher's attention. He blinked for a moment, wondering if anyone would be quick to take up the offer.

L'Noryn placed her PADD down and smiled, warm, and with care for each one in the room - even Mary Roberts. "Next week we learn to put up and break down a mobile surgical camp... I know this is a lot to take it, but you've veterans of combat medicine peppered throughout this room. We're here for you. And we're not going to let you fall on your face. If you do, it'll be because we all do."

Cate was already on her PADD checking schedules of the ED nursing and support staff so she would be able to compile a list of who should be on what team when the time came. She wanted to make sure there was at least one combat experienced team member for every two inexperienced.

"Any more questions?" Pierce asked with a glance around the room. "All right. Then you're dismissed. Try not to break the ship, eh?"

Having read the full report on the fungus that infected all sentient life forms with which it came in contact, Pierce felt two things. The first was complete disgust. How something so vile could be allowed to exist was beyond him. The second was prepared to impart this information to the rest of the staff.

Given that he had felt inordinately ill upon reading the effects of the fungus, he opted to not provide refreshments. He didn't need anyone getting sick during the briefing. That just wouldn't do. Instead, he simply waited for them all to arrive.

"Captain," Alexei said as he entered. "I've read some of the reports on the fungus. Truly terrible. Fascinating, but truly terrible, and terrifying."

Theo hadn't read up on the details, but he didn't need that information to feel concern at the expression on Pierce Hunnicutt's face. The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow, respected the rank differences present and waited his turn to speak, while his pale green gaze sought to lock with the Captain's own in the asking of a silent question. Are you okay?

Mary came in with a huge gala apple in her hand. No one told her what the meeting was about, or the severity, so to her, it was perfectly normal for her to eat a nice, juicy, sweet snack. She gave a vague wave of the hand to those already in the room before she plopped down in a chair in the far back of the room.

Catching the look from his son, Pierce gave him a little wave as if to say, 'it's fine.' "I couldn't think of a better word," he replied to Alexei. "I'll feel better when we find a cure."

"That is always the hope," Alexei said. "But I'd settle for a vaccine and a way to distribute it and effective quarantine measures."

"Sarree..." Mary clearly had too much food in her mouth as she asked her question. "Haht are zwee chalk'n 'bout?"

Remaining silent, Theo wandered to the front of the room and stood beside Alexei. "A cure or a vaccine for what?" He asked the two men, then turned briefly back to regard Mary and offer her a demonstrative eye roll followed by a 'zip up' gesture across his own mouth.

It had been a busy time since Dr. Anjou had come aboard the Potter. The medical facilities were far larger than anything he had worked with before. He only read the fungus report an hour before the briefing. What he read troubled him and he was unusually quit.

"This is going to send the crew bug nuts crazy. That's a mental health term for bug nuts crazy." Lieutenant Peregrine Trevena waved a PADD in the air as she walked into the briefing. "Do you have any idea how many people we have that are absolutely convinced they're going to catch anything we come across? Ten. Ten so far. That have come to me for support, at any rate. Anyway, I take it we're here to make a plan?" She tucked a strand of her wildly curly hair behind an ear, set the PADD down at a spot on the table. She smiled broadly at the others in the room. "This is going to be fun."

"Trust me, fun is not the word I would use."

The speaker stood beside the Potter's XO. The burly Russian was a mountain beside the narrow framed obsidian skinned alien. Humanoid in form, wearing a Starfleet Medical smock without rank or identification, the man's vocal tones and features denoted him as a Xilosian male. Golden eyes, with angular striations radiating from the corner of each eye. His head was covered in fronds, not unlike those of a lionfish, though illuminated with a shifting pallet of bioluminescence.

"Might I introduce Natural Philosopher Third Rank Kazzak, of the Xilosian Exiles," Commander Arkady Sjet said in his heavily accented English.

"A pleasure to meet you all," Kazzak said, the black pupils set into golden cornea flicking to each face. "I'm still getting used to the variety of traits and biological similarities so many divergent races can have."

As L'Noryn was trained in advanced clinical labs and diagnosis, it was no surprise she came into the room reading a PADD about the fungus. Try as she might to get used to space, she was wearing her teal wool cap to keep her head warm. In her black scrubs and labcoat, it did not look as odd.

The half-Deltan looked up for only a moment to take in the new speaker. A guest. She nodded respectfully to It (for she did not know yet if they were male or female) before she sat close to the front. She wanted to take notes and concentrate - and be as far away from Mary too.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Kazzak," said Pierce. "I wish it could be under better circumstances. But, I thank you for your expertise in the matter. We can use all the help we can get."

"I live to serve," Kazzak said and moved to a small lectern at the head of the room.

"Well, I think it's about time we got started," Pierce said to the room at large. "If you could all take your seats. Thank you. I'm not sure how many of you had a chance to read the report. To those of you have, I apologize. It's not pretty. We have here an expert in the matter of the Fungal Infection native to this part of space. He's here to explain to us what to look for in early symptoms and how to treat the patients. Mister Kazzak?"

"If I may be so bold..." a voice interjected from the doorway. It was low but forceful, accustomed to being heard despite its quiet volume. "Fungi is perhaps the most pernicious biological threat in existence. Most things which die stay dead. Neither fungus nor its hosts are obligated to that general rule." Cipher entered the room, though once he did he found that he was unsure of where he was to sit or stand. So, he just kept talking. "Forgive me for interrupting, and also for my tardiness--"

"Master Cipher was waiting to see where--"

"Silence, Logarithm," Cipher snapped at his robotic assistant. "You will wait outside for me."

"Yes, sir!" The doors closed on the helpful robot.

Turning around, Cipher noted an available seat near L'Noryn and helped himself to it.

"Please go on," Cipher said, not knowing whose turn it was to talk.

“Ah…yes…yes of course,” Kazzak said, having spent a few seconds watching the strange procession. The fronds atop his head shifted from green to blue, with red illuminated tips as he flustered. “Stage One Infected. In this we have a healthy body, introduced to the fungal spore. This can be through inhalation, ingestion, or injection via a dart or contaminated matter. Such as shrapnel, or a slug from a rifle, passing through infected tissue and carrying that matter into an uninfected host. A lot of the Military Cadre’s losses during the Fall Back on Xilos, were due to contamination instead of direct infection. It's a highly communicable disease.”

Kazzak cleared his throat.

“In Stage One we see the fungus infiltrating the cardio pulmonary system. In this stage the fungus is being actively attacked by the hosts immune system, but as it infiltrates the haemoglobin of the cells it is able to hide within it, thus allowing the disease to move freely to where it needs to be. During this stage we see heightened bodily temperatures, as well as K7 protein markers in the blood secreted during the fungus's life cycle. It's these markers that our test patches catalyse with,” Kazzak reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the Xilosain test patches. “If it remains blue, all is well. If it begins to turn red, even slightly, it’s a clear sign of infection. At this stage an infected person, unless outwardly contaminated with spores, is not actively infectious. This mitigates some of the risk of moving in to euthanise the patient.”

Cipher raised his hand, but spoke out before being recognized. "What about containment?" the Bynar asked. "I expect severe measures are necessary if euthanasia is the default prognosis."

"Ah...yes, well, containment was attempted during the early years of the Short War before the Fall Back. During this time we had the guidance and aid of the Concordance, who at the time were giving us misinformation about the pathogens true origins. The later stages of the infection, after the fungus has died off and the self-assembling brain implant has formed, all for unparalleled levels of cooperation between infected hosts. Escape, evasion, spreading the infection is their goal. Hiding from tests, spiking drinking water supplies, infecting medical supplies. Containment of any large number of infected exponentially increases the risk of exposure of an ever-increasing host population," Kazzak said heatedly, gripping the sides of the lectern.

"My...apologies," Kazzak said after a moment. The fronds atop his head were pulsing a gentle amber glow. "You must understand that a great many healers and doctors, the first to respond to this crisis, were also among the first infected. When your best and brightest are in harm's way, certain risks cannot be tolerated. When the true scope of the Concordance infection was found out, we'd already lost too many. There weren't enough of us left, not enough of a medical infrastructure remaining to make headway on a cure. We have a saying among healers on my world, sometimes you bring forth the scalpel, and sometimes you bring forth the torch."

Cipher gave a knowing nod. "Whatever it takes to save your world."

"Spend five years underground, knowing that topsoil is saturated wth enough radiation, chemical nerve agents, and ash to make it impossible for life to exist for the next ten thousand years, and you begin to understand the true meaning of irony," Kazzak said sardonically. "My people, the last of our kind, were rescued from a single Cradle Facility. There were three on my home continent. Both of them fell to the infection, one from a surface team failing through quarantine, and the other from the fungus getting the water. The former facility just went mad, tearing itself apart. The latter...well, they chose a much quicker way out. The Concordance were not the only ones in the Short War to use atomics."

Such devastation and Cipher did naught but blink. "Your... your people nuked your world to kill the fungus?"

Sensing the start of an off-topic disagreement, Cate leaned forward and raised her hand while keeping her elbow on the table. "Excuse me...but can we go back to the part about the fungus hiding within the hemoglobin cells?" she asked to get everyone's attention and divert it from Cipher and Kazzak. "I just want to make sure I understand you. You're saying transmission of the fungus is through blood to blood? As in MASH medical personnel can contract it if they have an open wound...like a paper cut and are putting their hands in someone's gut to clamp off an artery?"

"I am saying that transmission can be fluid transfer through open wounds. An Infected's blood is always hot, regardless of what Stage they are in. The fungal spores can be inhaled, ingested or injected. The fungus's ability to hide within red blood cells allows it to transfer quickly to the host's brain," Kazzak clarified. "Its why we have the test patches. If a patient was brought into a Military Cadre triage unit and tested positive, they weren't treated. No doctor or medic was allowed near them for fear of infecting critical level personnel."

"So, basically, we patch everyone during triage," Cate said as clarification.

"So... hazmat suits should be worn at all times," Mary surmised, her apple placed on the table beside her. She clearly was taking this seriously. "I don't know much about combating the spores, but seems to me, medical personnel in air-tight hazmat suits, can identify the implant once it takes root in the brain. Then inject it directly with a high-powered anti-fungal. Might not kill it, but could stun it long enough to surgically extract the implant and quarantine it for study."

Theo had sat, quietly listening and absorbing the pure horror of this fungal weapon. Now he spoke up, trying to make sense of a complex and very real threat. An infection that had required tactical nukes to destroy. "At that stage," he said, his voice curious rather than contradicting. "As I understand it, Kazzak said the fungus itself had died off and the implant was a different entity? A new structure?" Theo had a question of his own though, his assumption that, given Kazzak's experience, this had been tried before. "What happens when you try to remove the implant?" He asked the Xilosian.

"To that, I must refer to your Starfleet Medical techs. Xilosian biomedicine was just beginning to experiment with molecular machines for certain medical procedures when the Concordance made the first contact. Though compared to your own medical-grade nanomachines, we might as well have been using flint head axes to perform brain surgery." Kazzak smiled thinly, his fronds turning green along their edges. "For us the implants were known quantity, but far beyond the reach of our most skilled surgeons. Not without causing massive cranium and neural trauma, of which the patient would be unlikely to survive let alone recover in any meaningful sense of the term. Now...if you'll pardon me, I practised this this morning but it's still a little...new..."

He placed a closed hand against his com badge, and then made a throwing gesture towards the middle of the table. With a computerised beep, the room's smart systems took a hold of the gestural command and transferred the saved file on the combadge to the briefing rooms volumetric holographic. The lights dimmed slightly, and a green wireframe cylinder the size of a barrel fizzed to life. Within the wireframe was a human skull, with only the ghostly suggestion of features and skin. To the more clinically minded the image was obviously a real-time fMRI scan: the skin was moving in time with the shallow breathing of the subject, as transparent veins pulsed and twitched.

But the skin, flesh, and bones of the hologram were not the subject of interest. What was picked out in more detail was the brain, glowing brightly with flickering clouds of thought and possibility. But highlighted in inky black, trickly like water through brickwork, was the Concordance neural implant. It looked like a fiendishly complex bush devoid of leaves, spread out throughout the brain.

"Subject's name is Private Ernst, J, Starfleet Marine Corp 2nd Expeditionary Group. Age 21. It has been 4 months, 19 days and six hours since infection aboard the Canopus Station Engineering Module. The subject is lightly sedated, and medical-grade nanomachines have been administered via a spinal shunt. fMRI is rapid scan real-time mode, and we are recording to both Canopus Station main directory and the Disaster Beacon in case of emergency."

"Oh shoot," Kazzak cursed and clapped his hands. "Pause! Halt! Stop! It wasn't meant to play straight away!"

He stared, unabashedly at the fMRI with a growing sense of deeply disturbed wonder at the extent and complexity of this thing, quietly absorbed the sheer magnitude of this new vision of reality. Then Theo exhaled, cursed softly and tore his gaze briefly away in order to regard Kazzak again. "That's terrifyingly integral," he agreed. A brief pause. "And externally - no visible indication of the horrors lurking within beyond their behaviour towards an uninfected individual? Do they react instantly to such, or are they able to mask their hostile intent?"

The holo froze, and Kazzak let out a sigh of relief, his fronds glowing purple.

"The level of control in regards to the uninfected seems to follow an upward curve in relation to the number of the fellow infected present. If infected outnumber uninfected, violence is more common. If the reverse is true, then infected personnel tend to try to avoid direct contact. They either seek to spread the infection further or cause damage and harm. There was one case, a Military Cadre Flight Leader called Kaffe. She was able to infect her entire Vert Wing, got them past screening and into fully-armed aircraft. It was only when they took off and bombed the vert-base that anyone was the wiser. There are always outliers, those whose infections were slow, or whose implants aren't fully activated or damaged in some way," Kazzak explained. "Now, as for the hologram here, this is one of the Marines infected during the misjump for Canopus Station. He was selected as he was the youngest, and thus stood a better chance of recovery. Medical grade nanomachines were introduced to his cerebral fluid via a shunt and programmed to seek out the foreign matter of the implant and remove it."

He waved a hand at the hologram, which stubbornly refused to play.

"Anyone? Please? Gestural holographic controls are not my calm and powder," Kazzak grumbled.

While it was somewhat fascinating to watch the Xilosian's bioluminous rainbow enact his emotions, Theo didn't enjoy letting anyone struggle. He stood, quietly, and took up an unobtrusive position beside Kazzak. In the slow, deliberate manner of someone keen to pass on the knowledge rather than merely perform the task in hand, Theo deftly reached up and into the air and went through the necessary motion of gestures.

Play. Pause. Fast forward. Play. Pause again. Then he swept a curled hand towards Kazzak, met those luxurious golden eyes and checked their guest speaker was good to continue.

"Thank you," Kazzak said. He then nodded at the holo. "Well...er once I get this going, and this should answer your questions about attempts made to remove the implant once it's active."

He held out his hand and made the Play command.

The fMRI image flickered back to motion. This time a glowing blue mass could be seen moving from the base of the neck, and through the cerebral fluid. It broke apart, reformed, always heading towards the black roots of the implant.

"We're using Kepler 5.6 series medical nanomachines. They have been programmed to go after the nanotube particles making up the implant. At the resolution of their physical presence, there shouldn't be any outward biological reaction to the removal of the implant," the voice of the Canopus Station doctor said. Now the blue cloud had shattered, moving around to englobe the implant, shrinking steadily towards it. "We'll have contact in ten seconds. BP and heart rate are nominal. EEG shows light unconsciousness. Hang in there Ernest, we'll have you up and about in a few hours."

The blue cloud closed like shrinkwrap around the implant, coating it in a fine film of machines the size of a virus. Each of the medical nanomachines was, in truth, a little circular swam designed to cut and rend anything it programmed to go after. In the wrong hands, the same virus sized army could shred every cell in your body, instead of the clot in your brain. Its why they weren't used more widely than very unique, very edge case situations.

The edges of the briar bush of the implant began to fizzle away, vanishing beyond the resolution of the scan. It began to shrink, not noticeably at first, but branches at the edge and within the centre began to break apart.

"Process is at 2% complete...blood pressure is rising slightly, still within safe zone. Heart rate still good."

"Intercranimal pressure has increased." A new voice said, a nurse or other attendant in the theatre.

"To be expected. The medichines are tearing apart a piece of the devils own garden in there, they'll cause friction."

New data tables began to pop into the hologram, displaying blood pressure, heart rate, and the intracranial pressure. All of them beginning to rise as the implant slowly dissolved.

Then the image jerked, the holographic head twitching violently as warning tones began to sing out. The black roots of the implant were beginning to glow, warming through a dull red towards orange. The fMRI was having trouble keeping the scan going as the Marine under its care seized violently, the scan stuttering.

"Intracranial pressure increasing! Temperature increasing! By the Prophet's the implants cooking him!" The voice of the first doctor said. "Decativate the medichines! Get that scanner off now!"

FILE ENDS

The words hovered in the air, imposed over the last rendering of the scanner...it was hard not to see a suggestion of terror in the ghostly features, as the implant within thermally overloaded.

"They were able to stabilize and cool his neural tissue, but the damage was...extensive, to say the least. It's unknown how the implant was able to react the way it did, to the nanomachine payload. It doesn't emit any EM fields, so we can't access its programming, and even then how does the programming get loaded in the first place if each implant comes from a fungal spore," Kazzak said. "Right now, our focus is on a vaccine. Treatment of the infected is...not viable as of yet. Antipsychotics and sedatives only go so far, and in some cases have been counteracted by the implant overloading the bodies adrenals to fight past them."

Cate looked over at L'Noryn and wondered if her brain was swimming from information overload.

It was, a bit, but L'Noryn was busy writing notes in her PADD and looking at statistics of various tried-treatments and mortality rates.

Kazzak leaned against the lecture.

"I had hoped...I had hoped along with many, that your science and medicine would find an easy fix to this horrific plague," Kazzak smiled wanly, his frons turning a mustard yellow. "I still have hope."

Cipher had endured it all with stoic endurance. "Until then: containment. Harsh containment."

"Take no half measures," Kazzak warned. "This plague burned my world to a cinder. Gods Ashes, who knows how many worlds out there glow in the dark because of the Concordance. I..er...I have been trying to get through Captain Ingram's office on Canopus Station, along with many Xilosians. I..erm...we want to join you. Many of us. Doctors, soldiers. We're not working on Canopus, I think for the most part Ingram is looking for a place to dump us but er..."

He looked down at the lecture, his knuckles turning grey in tone as he gripped the edges. His voice straining.

"I beseech you to let us come with you. To help make sure no one else suffers as we did."

While he felt nuking their planet to stop the spread of the viral fungus was literal overkill, at the same time Cipher could appreciate the zeal and dedication of a people who took such action.

"Your specialists are not likely to meet our minimum standards," Cipher pointed out. "You would require immense training, supervision, restrictions, and the like." The Bynar hesitated for a moment, giving pause to where his deceased mate would finish his thought for him. No such luck. "But perhaps," he said, forcing himself into a complete unitary mental process, "we might have something to learn from you as well."

In his years, Cipher had seen some squeamish folks. The one thing that can't be trained for is guts. Those had to be inherited or earned.

It just so happened that Pierce agreed one hundred percent with Cipher. The question was whether supervision and training would be worth the extra help some of these Xilosians could offer. "I will keep it in mind," Pierce replied. "However, the final decision would be made by Starfleet and the Federation."

Cipher rolled his eyes and sighed. Typical bureaucratic response.

"Anyone who can face all of that," Theo paused to look just a tiny bit less overwhelmed, and offered Kazzak a supportive scrunch of his mouth that wasn't really a smile. There was nothing to smile about here right now. "And still harbour hope. I'd be more than willing to stand next to them in the next battle." He didn't get a vote on that decision, but Theo wanted the Xilosian to at least know that his stance mattered. That his survival made a difference.

"I-I I understand, we all do. And we have been training up since we became housed on Canopus Station. Virtual classrooms, holographic vocational training," Kazzak said, a pleading note to his voice. "I only ask that you consider our proposal. Our experience with the infection alone should weigh in our favour."

"Whatever Command decide," Theo said to the Xilosian beside him, "I certainly consider you to be a valuable resource. Since we," he indicated Cypher, "will be part of any rescue venture, I'd like to spend some time with you, share knowledge. I'd be happy to help with training. If," he looked to Pierce, "that's okay with the Captain."

That dumb 'proud dad' smile came across Pierce's face again. He glanced at his command team. "Any objections?" he asked them with a nod towards Kazzak.

"I, too, would welcome his experience," Alexei replied.

Pierce nodded. "All right then," he said. "Until we hear to the contrary from Starfleet, we'd love to have you stick around and lend us a hand."

"Oh! Oh thank you, I...I don't know what to say," Kazzak said, before composing himself. "I have a list of similar upskilled Xilosian medical technicians, a few of them served in the Military Cadre. I am more than sure they will have useful insights into the more practical security concerns you've highlighted."

With warm grin that traded targets from his father to the Xilosian, Theo nodded. "We'll take all the information we can get. Thanks, Kazzak. Look forward to working with you." He cast his gaze then to gathering as a whole and the Head Nurse, who clearly had the look of someone with something important to say.

"I'll start working on containment and PPE protocol suggestions," L'Noryn interjected. "At least so far as going into areas that we know are contaminated... I may need to consult with engineering about a couple of ideas for the ship, but I should have a safety protocol in Doctor Donaurov's hand in two days tops."

While the head nurse was not a pathologist, she was pretty good at diagnosing and treating milder cases than the majority of nurses, given her clinic background. Donaurov was the specialist in infectious diseases though. So final approval on containment was going to come through him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Alexei said. "I'll look it over and make any recommendations for changes that I feel are advisable."

"All right, I believe that covers it," Pierce added. "As long as there are no more questions or any pressing business, you're all free to go." He glanced around quickly and then with a wave of the hand, made the dismissal official.

Although there was no one in the sealed glass quarantine room attached to the main Medical Bay right at this moment, the newly minted Assistant Chief Medical Officer had remained here overnight, working. It had been a good while since he'd studied anywhere near this hard and even longer since anyone had trusted him with a patient who wasn't in imminent danger of death, but needs must and all that. Murray watched 'Blood vs Fungal Spore' play out on the recording one more time and frowned as he heard someone come into the lab behind him.

"Computer, pause," he said, and turned to greet the taller man. So, this was the expert from the shiny new hospital ship that had barely arrived in the system. This was the next person on a no doubt long list of people who would want information on Canopus's Special Case, the female with immunity to Dangerous Infectious Disease #1 out here in the New Space.

"Hey," Murray greeted him with a casual tone and no mention of rank. "I'm Murray Jacobs, Assistant CMO." He offered up a tired smile and wondered if he sounded convincing when he said that out loud. Then he checked he had the right person, since the Starfleet side of the base was relatively new to him. "You're from the MASH ship, right?"

Alexei saw in Murray the well-earned exhaustion of an all-nighter. For Murray's sake, Alexei hoped the all nighter proved to be productive. The New Kossackian noble smiled in greeting, but didn't offer his hand. While he had enjoyed his Infectious Disease fellowship, and the Epidemic Intelligence Service Officer fellowship that followed, those experiences, and the work that followed, had changed Alexei. While his New Kossackian physiology possessed an impressive immune system, Alexei was nonetheless very mindful of contagions and how they spread. The prince wasn't interested in spreading anything from Canopus to the Sherman Potter and beyond if he could help it.

"Greetings, Doctor Jacobs," Alexei said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Yes, I am from the Sherman Potter. Allow me to introduce myself in the most ridiculously pompous way I can manage." Alexei cleared his throat and took a breath before beginning the rather comical routine he sometimes liked to go through to break the ice. "Comrade Noble Prince Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov of the People's Imperial Democratic Socialist Republic of New Kossackia, younger brother of the heir to the Head of Household of House Donauri. I hold a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine, and am board certified in Adult and Pediatric Internal Medicine, Infectious Disease, and Epidemiology. I'm also Lieutenant Commander Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov of Starfleet Intelligence, Medical Intelligence Division, and a member of the Starfleet contingent assigned to the Epidemic Intelligence Service of the Federation Centers for Disease Control. And... no... I think that's it." Alexei grinned and winked. "Please feel free to ignore all of that and just call me Alexei, or Doctor, if you feel that we need to be formal. It's a pleasure to meet you."

As he searched this man's dark eyes, Murray noted the pride and self-assurance in his stance and demeanour. He noticed the lack of a handshake, but that didn't cause any issue or implication of impoliteness to the Rish medic. A simple nod would suffice, and save the purpose of less chance of transmitting anything that neither of them wished to share. So Murray nodded, and he noted that impish glint in the taller man's gaze as he listened to him speak.

Now that was a damn long title and verse to accompany a person. And definitely convoluted. He endured the introductory recital with an expression of mildly surprised, contented, tolerance and tried to ignore the nagging dullness in the forefront of his own sleepy brain. Somehow, Murray doubted that his own qualifications needed trawling up from his past and parading in public. In fact, were anyone here to look too deeply, they might reconsider his current position, so he kept quiet on a personal score.

"Impressive," Murray noted with a bright grin that showed in his eyes. "What does 'Medical Intelligence' entail?" He couldn't help asking, though he kept the concern surrounding his reasons for needing to know well hidden from his face.

"Well," Alexei said. "I should perhaps explain both of my jobs. First, to answer your question, my work with the Starfleet Center for Medical Intelligence mostly deals with gathering and analyzing Intelligence about other society's and other government's medical capabilities and infrastructure, as well as Intelligence on any bioweapon and bioterrorism capabilities they might have, and of course, keeping abreast of any medical threats to the Federation and its allies, such as epidemics that might spread to Federation worlds or Starfleet assets. Most of this work is done through analysis of open source materials, such as reports from Starfleet vessels and bases that encounter such Intelligence, or local media, sometimes through interviews, for example with refugees, or through official visits by Starfleet and/or Federation physicians. Sometimes we get a little covert, like slipping a Medical Intelligence Officer in with a diplomatic envoy. Sometimes we get very covert, which I can't discuss. The Epidemic Intelligence Service is a bit different. EIS Officers are basically 'Disease Detectives'. When an outbreak, natural or person-made, occurs, we move in as quickly as we can. We assess the situation, try to locate the source, and develop public health plans to respond to the epidemic. Starfleet and the CDC then provide the resources and assets to initiate quarantine measures and provide medical treatment. They also take the lead in developing treatments and vaccines, which will become part of our threat response plans. EIS is not really a covert operation at all. EIS Officers are essentially epidemiologists who do everything out in the open." Alexei grinned. "It seems I was long winded again. My apologies. I hope that made sense."

"Coffee?" Asked Murray, with a raising of his eyebrows as his current visitor finished his second long spiel and apologised for its depth of coverage. "And no worries," he added. "I asked." He turned to the replicator, rolling his eyes as soon as he was out of sight of the other man's field of view.

At least that answered his question. Yes this chap could be trouble, but his radar was focused entirely on medical matters, not the medic behind the investigation. So long as Murray kept Comrade Noble Prince Alexei Blah Blah Blah fully submerged in the data and analysis of the Concordance's beautiful nightmare, everything should be fine. This dude sounded as if he might even be able to acually help, and if he couldn't, the ship behind him certainly had enough medical staff to up the odds considerably.

"What's your experience of fungal infections that have the ability to sneak across the blood-brain barrier?" Murray asked as he turned back to face his guest.

"I've dealt with several infections that cross the blood-brain barrier," Alexei said. "What is the method of crossing in this case? Does it cross directly? Through infection of endothelial cells? Or does it Trojan Horse its way across by infecting monocytes that cross the barrier?"

"Trojan Horse," answered Murray succinctly. "But this is a fungus, remember, not a virus..." He touched the screen and brought up the imagery he'd watched previously with Dr Paulsen and Kitcher from Security. "Watch these, here's the data from earlier. First detail is from an infected Marine. Second from our immune subject."

Holographic data panes appeared, detailing various scans, tests, chemical filtering agents, and other medical technobabble. One of the more animated holograms was a computer-generated model of a blood cell interacting with the fungal infection, with a tag that read 'Spencer, J'. It looked like a poorly made red flesh doughnut covered in a light fuzz of grey.

The grey fuzz grew and fizzed atop the red blood cell slowly sinking in until a blinking 'Infected' status light appeared.

Then another window appeared, labelled "Paulsen, A'. The red blood cell was there, making a mockery of all good-natured bagels out there, wearing its coat of grey fuzz. Tendrils of the fungus tried to work and worm into the blood cell, but there sinking stain of it never seemed to catch. Then a blob of off cream came in from off-screen, gracefully caressing the red blood cell with a tendril.

The moment the tendril touched the grey fuzz, the red blood cell was engulfed in the white fluffy murder mass known as a white blood cell.

"As you can see, with a normal human the fungus hitches a ride to the brain, but with the second subject, the white blood cells intervene before this can happen," Murray advised, rubbing his fingertips on his right temple as he then turned to regard Alexei.

"So, what was different about the second subject?" Alexei said. He was willing to indulge discussion of a cure for a bit, but his true interest was in a vaccine. While his academic background in Infectious Diseases did cover efforts to cure them, his professional work in public health and epidemiology primarily involved stopping the spread of disease and infection through quarantine and vaccination.

Murray took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "The second subject is somewhat unique to my knowledge," he answered. "Due to an apparent transporter misadventure, Dr Paulsen is a thirty year old woman trapped in the body of her thirteen year old self." He let that information hang in the air with the gravitas it didn't truly deserve, then added. "She injected herself with infected blood. My - our - plan is to create a vaccine first, then work towards a cure if one's possible. But this only happened yesterday..." And he'd been up all night.

"And you've been up all night attacking the problem," Alexei said. "I won't trouble you much longer. If you feel up to telling me about any progress you've made, great. If not, I won't press. Either way, if it's not too much trouble, please send me what data you have and keep me updated on your progress as you make it. I'll put some time into the problem on my end and perhaps between the two of us and some of the other highly intelligent people we work with, we might solve this problem, or at least get closer to a solution."

Murray nodded and offered up a tentative smile. "Kinda," he confirmed. "Yeah. But, offered help isn't trouble. M'good with help." This problem was outside the immediate realm of his four years of medical school, and yet it was His Problem, and he wanted to resolve it. He internally debated the prospect of sharing versus having it stolen from him and shrugged. "Okay, sure," he agreed, a little reluctantly. "I'll share my data. But, on the understanding that we work together."

"Of course," Alexei said. "The important part is that we solve the problem. I wouldn't dream of taking all the credit. My job involves a lot of collaboration and I haven't yet put my name on anything I didn't actually put work into, nor have I ever denied anyone credit where credit was due. Now," Alexei smiled at Murray. "Doctor Jacobs, you have clearly been up all night. Accidentally infecting yourself or even just making critical scientific mistakes in simulations because you're exhausted isn't going to help anyone. My advice, based on quite a bit of experience, is that after you forward me your data, you go back to your quarters, take a shower, eat something, and get some rest, if not some sleep. Even just a couple of hours would do you good. You're not the only doctor on this station and you're not the only doctor working on this. I'll be in touch if I see something I think you might have missed or if I have any ideas of my own you might try."

This had gone particularly well, considering, thought Murray privately, as the very highly qualified and lofty positioned Lt Commander showed what felt like genuine concern for his welfare. He stifled a genuine yawn and nodded appreciatively, while reaching over to tap the screen. There... data shared. "That's everything I have so far," Murray confirmed with a mild shrug of his shoulders and a wry smile. "I hope it's at least a headstart, but thank you, for your... collaboration. The important thing is obviously finding a solution to this problem, obviously," he noted.

"You're right," the newest medic on the Canopus staff added as he walked with Alexei to the door. He nodded graciously enough, and accepted the other man's advice without argument. "I'll get some rest. Speak to you in a few hours, then?"

"Certainly," Alexei said. "Get some rest and we'll talk soon. Good day, Doctor Jacobs."

End Scene.

Guest Character: Murray Jacobs - Canopus Station ACMO

Other credits: Italics section of text quoted from Sjet's post 'Good News, Bad News, Better News' Canopus Station S2:E1.

The energies of the transporter dissipated, leaving the air scented with ozone and charged like the time before a summer thunderstorm. On the pad, looking a little more or less settled from the experience, stood Kazzak and three other Xilosians. In the centre of the pad were a collection of personal kit bags, a far cry from the baggage train other officers and crew might take with them.

Kazzak turned around, making an account of the other's of his party, and then turned his golden eyes to the welcoming committee.

Jayla, who had volunteered for this task as soon as it came up, gave the four Xilosians her biggest, most cheerful grin. “Hi!” she said. “I’m Doctor Jayla Kij. I’m to show you to your quarters and give you the grand tour of the ship. You know, the places you’re authorized to visit anyway. And also teach you how to use some of our technology that we use in our daily lives. Are you ready? Can I help you carry anything?”

"Doctor Jayla Kij, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Kazzak said. He stepped off the pad, a little shaky on his feet, and looked back at the others. "Allow me to introduce my colleagues, Doctor's Kilo and Kuva."

Two Xilosian men began to pick up their duffles, making a hand gesture as they were each named.

"Kilo is a mycologist by training, and-"

"Epigenetics and nanoinformatics," the other, Kuva said a little testily. He was looking up at the ceiling of the transporter bay at the dome-shaped pattern enhancer. "Kazzak sometimes forget we don't need to be spoken for."

"And sometimes Kuva forgets that he was born with manners," Kazzak said. "And at the back is Formation Sub-Adjunct Kiska of the Military Cadre."

Kiska held up a slender hand and shouldered her own duffle. Slightly taller than the male Xilosians, with a narrower face and chin, the gold striations radiating out from the corners of her eyes seemed brighter somehow than those of the three males. A nasty grey scar crackled like a lightning bolt up along the side of her head, terminating in a pair of shorn of fronds.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," replied Jayla with yet another grin. "And you can call me Jayla for now. I'm not sure how your culture views names, but ours prefers informal names when we're not working. Also, do you typically separate males and females? Or would you all prefer to stay together?"

"Doctor Kuva will do fine," the more arrogant sounding of the four said. "And if we have the option of solo domiciles, I'll take that option. No offence to my contemporaries, but being cooped up in a bunker for five years with you all makes my fantasies revolve around a solitary existence."

"I'm alright bunking with the other two," the military member of the team said. "And you might have noticed when we spoken our names, our..."

Kiska reached up, and brushed a hand along her fonds.

"...lit up? It's a photonic shorthand. Your species uses a birth name and a family naming convention. Ours does as well, but the family name is more an impression. I am my own person, my family is secondary to that expression so it is given less space in verbal information exchange."

"To that end,' Kazzak said. "I and Doctor Kilo are happy to bunk with Kiska."

"You got it," replied Jayla, making a couple of adjustments on the PADD she carried. She then pulled four small objects out of her pocket and handed them around. "These are called com badges," she explained, taking her own off and showing them how to affix them to their shirts. "They'll let you talk to anybody instantly. You just tap them, like so," she added, tapping her own badge, "and say who you want to talk to. Of course, if you bump it and don't say anything, within a few- oh! There it was, did you hear that chirp? That meant that it deactivated. So don't worry about accidentally broadcasting what you're doing to the whole crew. But, if you need to contact someone, just state your name, followed by the desired party. For instance, I could say 'Dr. Kij to Kiska' and it would come through your badge. To reply, just say, 'Kiska here,' or, you know, whatever your name is. Does everyone got that?" she asked.

"So it's a commtalk you wear," Kilo said with an affable nod. "I'll miss not having a screen to look at."

"Okay! Follow me and I'll show you to your new quarters!" she said cheerfully, leading them into the corridor. "Now, this is the absolute most useful thing the computer can do. Computer, show me to Doctor Kuva's quarters." At once, the running lights at the base of the wall to their right lit up and began their dance down the hallway, only reaching the next junction before returning to their location and repeating their trek. "If you get lost, you can just ask the computer to lead you wherever you need to go and it'll show you. And it's smart enough to know who you are- those com badges tell it- so you can just say 'show me to my quarters' and it knows what you mean. And now, we can just follow the lights."

"You know we did have a functioning global positioning system on our home world," Dr Kuva said snidely. "I think we can all figure out how a map cogitator works. Maybe you want to show us how the light's turn on and off with the flick of a button, or some spoken utterance?"

"Kuva!" Kazzak snapped.

"Oh please Kazzak, throw your spit somewhere else. This crewman is here to guide us and make sure we didn't walk out an airlock, as though living under the constant threat of infection or radiation poisoning wasn't tutor enough to a savage environment. Its political frond covering, making sure we can wipe our own asses with both hands and a map." Kuva snapped. "It's damn tiring. I'm here to work, not be given rudimentary lessons in their most basic technology. I was Second Solar at the Resten River Collegium-"

"Oh here we go," Kilo said in a low voice.

"-and I was Scientific Advisor to the Civilian Mandate, and how is that rewarded? By being made the second lancer to Kazzak," Kuva grumbled. "It's humiliating."

Jayla's grin had never faltered, though it had grown troubled, then amused. "Okay, fair enough," she replied. "But would you have known that our computer could do that? I didn't. I spent my first month at Starfleet Academy getting lost before an upperclassman showed me that trick." She glanced at Kuva. "Don't let a more humble position humiliate you," she advised. "Think of it as an opportunity to try something new." Something told her that Kuva wouldn't like that much, but she tried anyway, giving him her winningest smile.

"Careful now Kuva," the female soldier said as she passed him by. "Wind changes and your fronds will stay like that."

The irate scientist snorted and the group moved on.

"Starfleet Academy is that a military academy?" Kiska asked. "I ask only I was given the impression your people had done away with true warfare? A lot of science and engineering types, but not many troopers."

"They took out that damnable onyx temple the Concordance left behind on the Costaw Mesa. Looked like the mother of all atomic blasts," Kilo said.

"They have access to antimatter. No doubt that makes them a premier power in their home galaxy," Kuva said testily. "The sum total release of the stored energy of an entire atom. The thought alone of the science needed to achieve that is startling."

"And to achieve it without blowing your civilisation to glowing splinters makes it hard to believe your science can't get a fix on the Concordance infection," Kilo said. "Just speaking the common gossip."

"I agree, oddly enough," replied Jayla, her smile turning sad. "It is unlike anything we've seen before. But, rest assured, we will not stop until we find a solution or we're all dead."

"From your lips to the fates ears," the female soldier said.

"We've come this far, I'm sure we'll go as far as we need to go," Kazzak said brightly. "If you'd asked me a
year ago if I would be standing on the deck plates of a true starship, able to travel between the vast emptiness of the sky in what amounted to mere moments, I'd have laughed at you one and all. We truly do not know what tomorrow will bring."

"Well I for one hope the future holds a cot and eight hours of sleep," Kilo muttered.

"We could do the tour in the morning if you prefer," Jayla offered as they came to a door around which the running lights were dancing. "Doctor Kuva, these are your quarters. Just press your thumb against that pad by the door and it will register your bio sign and unlock the door. Kiska, Kilo, and Kazzak, yours is just across the hall."

"Oh thank Gods Ashes," Kuva groaned and did as instructed, soon leaving the gathering outside and alone.

"Well I can't speak for Kiska, but I can't wait for a tour of this medical marvel," Kazzak said eagerly.

"If Kilo's alright getting his things settled?" Kisak asked, looking to the other doctor.

"I'll be fine, unless there's a portal to the Low Place hidden in the closet," Kilo smiled and pressed his thumb to their door and opened it to a four-person bunk space. "At least this one has a view."

"And then there were two," Kazzak said with a grin. "So, what now? You're the tour guide."

"Well, now I show you around the ship," Jayla replied. "We'll start with Sick Bay, obviously, since that's where you'll be spending the most time. I'll also show you the admittedly few recreational areas we have, because they're important to mental health. Ready?"

"I'm ready if you are ready?" Kazzak asked the soldier.

"Lead on," Kiska said with a nod.

Pierce adjusted the collar of his uniform, something he only did when nervous. Exactly why he was nervous wasn’t readily apparent. He had, of course, heard that Carcosia was a bit more advanced- or in the opinion of the Chief Engineer of Canopus, simply different- and he wasn’t sure how this was going to go. After all, would they find the Sherman Potter up to their standards?

They would find out soon enough. A contingent was on their way. “I sure hope this was a good idea,” he commented to his XO.

"Is perhaps late to be saying such things," Arkady said and nodded through the glass viewport of the arrival bay as the stubby Carcosian shuttle came to a graceful stop. Angular, faceted and coloured like a piece of sharpened flint, the Carcosian shuttle looked dangerous. Then again its parent ship, the frigate Dauntless resembled a shark in many ways.

A history born in war and borne out through design.

Commander Sjet led the deck crew out to the shuttle as its side hatch slid open, and two Carcosian sailors stepped off onto the deck of the Sherman Potter. Both dressed in the spotless white of the Reciprocity Of Carcosia Navy, with rank tab's ringing their sleeve cuffs, and a neat blue beret on their heads, they formally saluted Hunnicut and Sjet.

"Mendicant Officer Hansen of RCN Medical, and my Savant 2nd Grade Dashen. Permission to come aboard?" said a very human-looking man. In truth, he was human, with short brown hair and the clean-shaven good looks of a holovid star slumming it on the documentary circuit. The young man who stood beside him looked much younger, a cadet perhaps with dark skin and bright intelligent eyes.

"Granted," replied Pierce. "Oh, and at ease; we're pretty laid back here. I'm Captain Pierce Hunnicutt and this is Commander Arkady Sjet."

"A pleasure Mendicant Officer Hansen," Arkady said.

"Well two hundred years of navy tradition are hard to break ties with I'm sorry to say Sirs. Besides, I have to lead a good example for the S2 here," Hansen said with a disarming smile. He clicked his fingers, and stepped back into the shuttle and then stepped back out with a pair of heavy-looking travel cases. "Forward Commander Larkin of the RCNS Dauntless would like to make a formal gift of these to your ship."

He set one down and opened the clasps. Set within foam recesses of the case were little wafer-like circles of foil.

"General Purpose Fixative. Short term nanoMed patches, meant to supplement the immune implants of the body. These should work just as well on your crew as any on the Dauntless. Though our cursory scans of the few personnel we encountered suggested you still vaccinated manual?" Hansen asked, leaning over the second case. Within this case was large bottles, marked with the three blue waves of the Carcosian crest.

"We do," Arkady said and leaned over. "What is in bottle? Miracle for baldness?"

"Alas even an aliment our science has yet to fix, at least not without the blessing of the wig makers. No this is something much, much more useful than a nanoMed repair patch," Hansen picked up one of the bottles, holding it reverently. "Does Scotland still exist? Our histories of Earth paint it on the upper slopes of a Climate Cliff before the Exodus, what with that nuclear war throwing all the dust into the upper atmosphere. I'd love to know how a Cresti Single Malt compares to something that can be called Scotch."

"It's still there," replied Pierce, still too busy marveling at the nanoMed patches to be overly concerned with the alcohol. "Surprisingly, most of Earth survived. Maybe not quite the way one would hope, but it's there all the same. We'll have to send Larkin a thank you note. Medical supplies and alcohol? I feel like I'm being courted."

"Well call it a down payment on future good relations," Hansen said and put the bottle back into its carrying case. His Savant, Dashen, stepped forward neatly and closed the lids and picked them up without complaint. Hansen smiled. "Forward Commander Larkin was most impressed by what you were able to accomplish, I look forward to being similarly impressed. In fact, to play out the line a little, I think you'll find most of the Reciprocity impressed that not only did Earth survive but seems to have thrived by all accounts."

"Well, that's something, isn't it?" Pierce said to Sjet. "We've impressed them just by being here!" With a grin, he turned back to the Carcosians. "Well, shall we get started? I'm sure you're interested to see what we've got going on over here. Oh, Lieutenant," he said to a passing crewman. "Take these crates and stow them in the inspection area for now. I'll take care of them later."

The crewman took the crates from Dashen and hurried off with them to put them up.

"All right, let's get shakin'," Pierce said. "It's not a big ship, but they've crammed a lot into it. We'll start with main Sick Bay and work our way out from there."

"Does your ship see much work, back in the home space?" Hansen asked. "I imagine with the scope of your United Federation there are many member worlds who have differing levels of technical confidence and aptitude. Does the Starfleet step in to offer ships like these as a palliative or stop-gap measure?"

"Only if requested by the member government, or in the event of natural disaster," Arkady answered. "I was part of crew on USS Kanjo when a comet fragment hit world called Blue Box. Pushed the world into a nuclear winter, flash floods, ruined crops. The Kanjo was not as advanced as the Potter but that does not stop the work from needing to be done."

As they talked, the group of four officers entered a turbolift, and Arkady selected a destination: Main Sick Bay.

"Yes I've done my time handing out famine relief biscuits and thermal blankets," Hansen said with a nod. "We see a lot of that sort of thing in the periphery of the Reciprocity. Refugee's from the Concordance front line, wandering packs of Reka seeking succour. The odd itinerant trade caravan. Have you met the Bone Golems yet? I hear they have a trading post locally, something called the Sleepers Bazaar. Charming place if Frontier Fleet are to be believed."

"I've only read the official report," Pierce replied. "But it sounds like a lovely place." He glanced up as the lift doors opened and they entered Main Sick Bay to find several Medics hard at work preparing for departure. "These are some of our emergency responders- some paramedics, some nurses, some doctors." He gave an approving nod to the nearest crewman.

Cait stood by the collection of containers in the center of the room and checked off each one on a PADD. "Where's container #4?" she called out. "It has the extra FTKs we replicated last night." No one answered so she raised the volume of her voice to one of command. "Come on people. Wake up. We need that container." Then to herself she grumbled, "do I have to do everything myself?"

"Far less lovely a place than this fine medical facility reminds me of my days at the Intellectus Medicina on Crest," Hansen said with a smile. "Fewer disapproving frowns from the Lecturers though. That's something of a bonus, though your facility does seem to run at something of a surplus of personnel. Is that typical, or have we caught them at shift change?"

"Nah, we all pitch in when we're getting ready to head out," Pierce replied. "So there's more than usual here. Oh, Lieutenant Donovan, can you spare a moment?"

Without looking at the speaker, Cait started to say, "do I look like I...," then she turned to face the voice and saw it was the Captain and visitors. "Oh. Sorry, Sir. Yes, of course."

"This is our head trauma nurse," Pierce introduced her to the Carcosians. "Not a nurse of head trauma, but the nurse in charge of trauma. Which, I suppose would include head trauma. Anyway, nurse Donovan, this is Mendicant Officer Hansen of RCN Medical, and Savant 2nd Grade Dashen."

"Pleased to meet you," Cait said and started to extend her hand but saw it was grimy from working on getting supplies ready so she wiped it on her lab coat then extended it again.

"A pleasure!" Hansen said and reached out with both hands to shake hers. "You know, it's the most uncanny thing. Sensibly I know you've never been there, but I'd swear your accent was Cresti. With just a hint, a veritable hint, of a South Peninsula drawl to it. You'd not stand out from one of the recreational promenades, and yet you're from the homeworlds. Amazing. Not to mention heading up the often-overlooked nurses who keep the doctors in line? Or have you done away with that sort of doctorly oversight as well?"

"I didn't know I had an accent," Cait said with a smirk. "I was born in the USA on Earth to Irish parents. So if I do have a brogue it's something I picked up from them. As to my nurses being over looked...well...I wouldn't stand for it," she added with a wink. "Now if you'll excuse me I have a container to locate."

"Oh, yes, please don't let me keep you," Hansen said with a broad, easy grin that simmered down into the happy land of 'what if'. He was awoken from the daydream when Dashen, his Savant, coughed lightly to indicate a newcomer.

"Doctor Alexei Andreyovich Donaurov," Alexei said, introducing himself, leaving out both his Starfleet rank, his actual position, and his noble rank, title, and honorifics. Introducing himself as a physician lent him an informal air and leaving out his noble rank, title, and honorifics avoided confusion. "I'm a public health doctor and epidemiologist assigned here. I'm also the ship's Second Officer. It is a pleasure to meet you both." Alexei frequently refrained from introducing himself as an Epidemic Intelligence Service Officer. Someone who didn't know what the EIS was all about might assume he was a spy, which he absolutely wasn't. That was one of the reasons EIS Officers from Starfleet wore Medical Teal.

"Epidemiologist? Well, you've certainly got your plate full out here. The Concordance brain rot aside, I'm sure we can pass along some files to help bolster your medical preparedness. Lots of critters out here see the humanoid body as a vessel within which to replicate, or in some case just a place in which to loiter and soak up resources. Save you a few near-death experiences the Settlement Era historicals like to harp on about," Hansen said. Dashen was oddly quiet in the back behind his senior officer, his dark eyes soaking up the room.

"That would be most appreciated," Alexei said. "As you say, I'll have my plate full. Any relevant information you can provide would be greatly appreciated."

"Senior Chief Hospital Corpsman Alexander Davith Rylan," Alex said.

"Senior Chief? So you're the one who makes sure everything gets done in a proper ship-shape fashion then?" Hansen said with a grin.

"Outward musculature and stance suggests military training, as opposed to the others," Dashen said for the first time. The young man behind Hansen regarded Rylan for a moment. "You are cross-trained with this ships tactical detachment?"

"Good catch! I was previously assigned to a tactical unit," Alex said. "Marine Corps Special Operations Command, or MARSOC for short. The unit is also called the Marine Raiders. I was their SAARC, which stands for Special Amphibious/Aerospace Reconnaissance Corpsman. I attended advanced training in combat and field medicine, allowing me to act fairly independently in the field, even to perform certain surgeries and prescribe medicines in the field as I saw fit. After serving with the Raiders a while, I transition to being an Independent Duty Corpsman in the regular fleet. I can still do most of what I did before in the absence of physicians, and in emergencies, I still do, and do exams and even order diagnostic tests after running my plan past a physician. Think of me and my fellow IDCs as a kind of force multiplier. Through us, one physician can simultaneously treat multiple patients. Our nurse practitioners and physician assistants fill a similar role, but have more academic education that the IDCs do in most cases. I take it you have some military and tactical training yourself?"

"I serve the Reciprocity of Carcosia Navy in the role of Savant, 2nd Grade. I have an eidetic memory, a speed reading index of .8, and have compiled multiple medical treaties to short term memory for this deployment. As for Navy doctrine and organisation details," Dashen looked to Hansen who gave a slight shake of the head. "I am not authorised to decant that information at this time."

"Loose lips and all that," Hansen said with a rye chuckle. "You'll have to forgive Dashen. As a Savant, he's something of a ripwing when it comes to information: if it's shiny, he'll just want to have it or claw your eyes out. Though he's better than my last Savant, a 1st Grade to be sure but a bit long in the tooth. To much clutter, poor recall."

Alex schooled his expression and body language so as not to give away his true thoughts and feelings, a skill any Starfleet senior NCO learned quickly and well if they wanted to succeed. Non-verbally letting a superior officer know that you thought they were suffering from rectal-cranial insertion disorder was bad for one's career. In this case, Alex didn't want to let on that he was extremely suspicious of Hansen, who seemed to be doing his best to come off as a cheerful idiot. Alex strongly suspected Hansen was trying to play them. Dashen was a bit more straight forward. At least the Savant was up front about his distrust.

"No worries," Alex said, a cheerful grin on his face. "I'm familiar with the concept of Need to Know. I'm not insulted."

"And Mr. Rylan is so good at it that one of our Pediatric surgeons refused to accept the posting unless he could come along," Pierce added with a wink at Rylan to show he knew the real reason Dr. Kij had insisted on bringing him.

"Really? My, you were not joking when you said you ran an informal ship, Captain Hunnicut. Oh don't get me wrong, Forward Commander Larkin is a fair captain, but when a sailor of the Reciprocity gets an order it's an order a request. But then again we're at war, whereas it seems you've had a good deal of peace. Must be a nice place this, what did they call it?" Hansen asked.

"The Alpha Quadrant," Dashen answered, his eyes tracking up to the ceiling lights, mumbling something under his breath.

"Ah yes, the Alpha Quadrant. If you don't mind, I'll just call it the Home Stars. I have enough trouble remembering new acronyms when they're stenciled on the side of the box, let alone new geographical details," Hansen chuckled.

Alex Rylan and Alexei Donaurov made brief eye contact and in that fleeting moment, a mutual understanding was shared. It appeared neither man was buying Hansen's act. The affected vapid, shallow, dismissive demeanor Hansen was displaying was... too much. He clearly didn't understand the concept of Less is More, or maybe he thought if he was obviously off, everyone would be distracted by his behavior and not consider him a threat. Alexei was glad he wasn't the only one with a suspicious nature on the ship.

If Pierce held similar suspicions, he didn't show it. He tried to give people the benefit of the doubt and Hansen's actions could be chalked up to nerves. "Home stars is as good a name as any," he agreed, unconsciously mimicking Hansen's demeanor. "But, yes, Starfleet is only a pseudo-military. Everything is completely voluntary, to a point. Oh, sure in times of war, an order is just that, but mostly, we offer jobs to the officers we want the most and if none of them are interested, it goes up for grabs, so to speak. Anyone can apply. You know. But, that happens so rarely it's hardly worth mentioning. In fact, all my first choices accepted the post quickly."

He'd hung back, quietly checking inventory on the team's rescue med-kits and ensuring that everything was where it should be. Theo did, however, keep half a very curious eye on the Captain and Commander with their shiny white duo. Had to be the Carcosians, which was beyond intruguing, but he waited his turn, finished his checks and stepped forward only as Home Stars were mentioned.

"And others of us might have signed up a little last minute, sirs," said Theo with a smile, his tone nevertheless respectful and his stance upright.

The fatherly pride was unmistakeable on Pierce's face as his son appeared. "Though no less wanted or appreciated," he replied. "Dr. Theodore Hunnicutt, our medical advisor to the Aerospace Rescue Detachement," he introduced to Hansen and Dashen.

"My, for a ship of doctors you do seem to have-" Hansen began, when a dull chime emitted from Dashens cuff. Hansen scwoled at his Savant, who had turned away to speak into the silver bracelet around his wrist. "Damn, I told him to turn that blasted thing off before we came over. Anyway, as I was saying you seem to have a great deal of rescue personnel for a hospital ship. I would have assumed your vessel kitted out for more surgical and general medicine, instead of daring-do. Don't you have other more combat-ready ships that could serve that role of SAR better?"

“This is a big ship,” replied Pierce. “Well, okay, so it’s relatively compact, but this is only a very small part of it. Our surgery galleries make up a great deal of the hospital area. We simply haven’t gotten to them yet. But, if you’ll care to step over this way, we can check out that area as well,” he added, gesturing towards surgery.

Cipher had quietly observed everyone by himself, expecting to get a familiarity for the diverse staff of specialists. So far he was having a hard time paying attention. Trite talk of accents and bureaucratic niceties held little interest for him. He sighed and leaned back with his arms folded over his chest.

"Surgical galleries? Do you have more than one? Would you be using actual doctors or teleoperated prosthetics? I have a small surgical suite on the Dauntless myself, but most of my surgery case end up going through an AutoDoc. Easier, more sterile. Allows me to treat more patients than I could traditionally," Hansen said as he followed. Dashen returned to his senior's side.

"Update from the Dauntless, they've just gotten long-range communications back online with Frontier Fleet Command at Fortress. No important Medicant updates for you Sir," Dashen reported.

"I should hope not! The last update I got from that sorry excuse for a review board was to ration the number of cases of anti fungal cream I used," Hansen chuckled.

"The beaurocracy likes to micromanage, don't they?" grinned Pierce. "But, yes, we have several surgery galleries. They're small, very compact, but we're prepared for any eventuality. Hopefully we won't have to sure all of them at once, but at least we're prepared." He led the way to the surgical area and found the same bustle here as in the main area. "And this is Doctor Anjou," he added, spotting the Chief Surgeon. "He'll be my boss when I come down to join them."

"You're too kind Captain." Anjou smiled at Pierce. He then turned to the guests. "Greetings gentleman, welcome aboard. If you have any questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

"I am sure that you will. If you don't mind me asking, Dr Anjou, what is your specialisation? My own is in trauma surgery, as befits the role of a warship Medicant Officer. A lot of the specialised departments one might find in a ship such as this have no place on such a cramped ship as the Dauntless. Even the dreadnaughts of the RCN have only so much space," Hansen said. As he did so, Dashen again stepped away to one side, bringing his comm bracelet up to his lips to speak into it.

"I specialize in general surgery, Doctor." Anjou cheerfully replied. "When I first entered medical school, I studied to become a cosmetic surgeon. Although it may seem odd that a military surgeon knows cosmetic surgery, that skill has served me well. Starfleet personnel can suffer serious wounds or burns. Physically making some one feel whole again does wonders for healing." Anjou explained.

"Mind and body are so intrinsically interlinked, its something so often overlooked. Do you use printed stem cells to create crafted blastomas to replace gross tissue loss? Or do you prefer a metabolic enhancer to force the bodies cells to undergo replication?" Hansen asked. Dashen had returned and coughed lightly into one hand.

"Sir, you are requested back on the Dauntless by Forward Commander Larkin."

"What?" Hansen blurted, looking down at his own wrist comm. "I was promised at least half a day on this tour. There are questions I seek answer too."

"With communications back online, the Dauntless has been ordered to make sail for one of the Sentry Worlds along the Northern Galactic Bearing. We're to rejoin the 3rd Battle Fleet above Riptide, and assist in battlefield sterilisation," Dashen explained.

"Well...Phi," Hansen shook his head. "I'm very sorry Captain Hunnicutt, but duty calls. Riptide is one of our Sentry Worlds, a border fort if you will, along with the border interface between Myriad and Concordance space. If we're being recalled to aid in a BFS sweep, there must have been a major incursion..."

He cocked his head to one side.

"Say...here's a thought. Is your ship capable of making a Slip Stream jump?" Hansen waved a hand at Dashen who was already opening his mouth. "Hush Savant, this is a conversation between doctors and physicians."

“This ship wasn’t designed with slipstream, but it’s been retrofitted,” answered Pierce. “QSD is still highly regulated where we’re from, but we’re not there anymore.” He grinned. “Plus, I’m pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency.”

"BFS sweeps are meat grinders. I'm sure we can find work for your entire staff. The 3rd FLeet has something of a reputation of getting in close and letting the enemy claw it up some before getting the job done. And if Reka or Concordance ground troops got into the mix, there will be casualties aplenty. I'm sure I can sell this to Forward Commander Larkin." Hansen said eagerly. "Fancy getting some honest work done?"

"It's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," replied Pierce. "Then again, what isn't? Yes, I'd have to say we'd be down for that."

"Excellent. Could always use another set of hands around the theatre," Hansen turned to look at Dashan. "Comm the Dauntless and let them know I will be returning in the longboat shortly. Request than Forward Commander Larkin meet me in the boat bay when I arrive."

"Aye aye, Sir," Dashan said with a note of apprehension in his voice.

"Oh yee of little faith," Hansen grinned. "Youth of today, no sense of adventure in them."

"Or maybe a bit too much," replied Pierce. "Mr. Sjet, please escort our guests back to their shuttle and then join me on the bridge." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed towards the door, tapping his combadge as he went. "All hands, this is the Captain," he said as he hurried on his way. "Prepare for immediate departure. Recall all crew on the station. More information to follow. Thank you."

"Hello. My name is Cipher. Would you like a beverage?"

That sounded terrible. Cipher tried again.

"Hello. My name is Cipher. You look thirsty. I know I am."

Somehow that was even worse. As he made the approach to L'Noryn's quarters, he was trying to find the right words and kept coming up dry. Just like the tongue in his cotton mouth.

It wasn't that Cipher was looking for anything in particular. The head nurse had just seemed very knowledgeable, understanding, and, well, safe during her presentation earlier that day. Cipher had not had a mate -- for Bynars, it was a role more intimate than a twin sibling -- for years. Years of counseling had made him competent at solitary living, but at some point, he knew that being an individual meant forming relationships, even friendships, with other people.

Of course, it didn't hurt that L'Noryn was naturally bald like himself.

At last, he summoned the courage to ring the chime on her quarters.

Living quarters on Starfleet ships were almost always cooler than they needed to be. After a long hard day, L'Noryn found herself curled up on her comfy chestnut suede sofa as she read over her preliminary findings for compartment quarantine, incase the spores were to get on the ship.

When the chime sounded, L'Noryn looked up, curious. She pushed a teal fleece off her legs and walked over to the door. The sitting area was at the far right corner. Her cooking unit and a small table to prep and eat on was to the far left of the room. The rest of the room was pretty bland. Tans and browns that went well with the couch. There were also two recliner chairs that faced the couch, which the couch itself was pushed up under the port window. A dark brown rug with an oval oak coffee set between the chairs and couch as well.

L'Noryn must have been in the process of putting together a holovision for it rested incomplete on the left wall, between the door to L'Noryn's room, and the port window.

When she opened the door to her quarters, she pulled the sleeves up on her Starfleet Nursing Corps t-shirt and placed her shades on so as the bright lights of the hall did not bother her.

"Warrant," L'Noryn greeted with a warm smile, though she was a bit perplexed as to why he was visiting her quarters. "Something I can do for you?"

Was there? Suddenly Cipher was unsure. "I...wanted to thank you for your briefing today. It was very informative. You seemed friendly enough. Are you available for leisure?"

The question made Cipher uncomfortable, so he could only imagine how it made L'Noryn feel. Surely this wasn't how prospective friends spoke.

L'Noryn did a quick mental recall on Cipher's people. They were literally fused as a pair, until death, the Head Nurse guessed. What she would give to scan his thoughts. Try to heal his emotional pain by filling that void with joy and companionship. Deltans thrived in family communal links, and links between sexual partners. A link she craved more than anything to have. A link not unlike one Cipher lost.

L'Noryn was only too happy to accommodate his desire for companionship, albeit a bit confused on how she attained this honor.

"Warrant Roberts would argue I'm a monster," L'Noryn laughed in irony. "And I am available for leisure, sure... Were you wanting to go elsewhere on the ship, or did you want to come in?"

Cipher gave a shrug. "I don't know. Leisure is not my strong suit. What do you suggest?"

"Marines taught me to shoot rifles and ride horseback. When not able to use the holodeck for those activities, I like to read, and sometimes I experiment with my cooking," L'Noryn offered some of her ideas first to gauge him. "I'm always open to trying new things too... You have anything you like to do when you're not working?"

"....no."

Awkward confession time.

"Until recently, when I wasn't on duty, or transferring to a new duty station, or training, I was undergoing therapy." It was a shameful admission, but it had been his life. "I recently underwent a change that allowed me to better cope with ... with things." He quietly added a point to his Game. "Now I'm ready to explore what it means to live again."

L'Noryn suspected Cipher was still grieving. Acceptance was the stage he was most likely at now and made perfect sense as to why he sought her out. Someone positive that could help him move forward.

"Then live, we shall." L'Noryn waved him through the door. "You ever had a corndog or a coke float?"

"Never even heard of those things," Cipher said with a nervous chuckle. The first one sounded like an animal of some kind and the other....he could only guess. Maybe something to do with narcotics or water sports? "If it doesn't come from Bynaus, a Federation shipyard, or a medical line of therapeutic products, then I've products, I might not know it."

L'Noryn waved him over to the sitting area as she headed to the replicator to get their meal.

"I'd normally fry the beef franks, but since I don't have a cooking hood yet, I don't want to set a smoke alarm off," she explained as she removed her shades. "So... Replicated food it is."

Was that all it took? As Cipher entered her quarters, he wondered what he had been worried about. "Whatever you think. I am at your disposal."

L'Noryn went to the cupboards by the right of her cooking unit to pull the ketchup and mustard out. She preferred honey, which was not as common, and since Cipher appeared oblivious to human food, she did not want to overwhelm him with so many choices. Simple, and savory. Sweet came with the desert.

"Did you always want to be a tech?" L'Noryn asked conversationally while she began to replicate the food, "Or is that something of a mandate for your people?"

"Technology is life on Bynaus," Cipher said. "We aren't competitive in our biology. Smaller, wesker, slower...but through augmentation, we become greater than the hand dealt by nature. You might even say that the best parts of Bynar culture are digitally expressed and experienced. Consequently, everyone is a tech first and everything else second."

L'Noryn almost felt sorry for him, if not for the realization that she herself was always a nurse. Since she was very little, she started out prepping bandages for Ranjen Ilman whenever Bajoran Resistance brought in their wounded. It wasn't something she disliked, but it was what she was used to. Yet another sign that she honestly had no clue who she was. Nature had plotted her course, while it seemed Nurture plotted Cipher's.

As L'Noryn brought the condiments to the coffee table, she smiled to Cipher, "Social ques are new for you, which is fine... But as we are getting to know each other, we typically take turns asking each other questions. What we like, what we hate, what our dreams are..."

She maintained her welcoming, non-judgemental smile as she walked back to the replicator to get their hot food and cold beverages, and put a massive glob of honey in her plate, for her dog. All the while, she noticed there were too many similarities between them to be ignored. Did she like him? Romantically? She could not say. Not every couple had physical attractions. Others relied strongly on spiritual connections instead. But even the latter was a bit too early for her to judge on. He could very well just be looking for a friend, so she chose to ponder that while she listened to him.

"It's a little more complicated than that..." How to explain? Cipher let out a sigh. "A Bynar is never truly alone. We are meant to be paired. This goes back even before cybernetics. We are genderless, clan-less, and without hierarchy. To ensure survival, we bond for life in pairs before we even learn to walk. These pairs group together with other pairs to form chains, and these chains work together to create marvels. You see, we are natural computers. Technology was just a progression of our own evolution which has been codependent from the beginning. It's not, then, that social cues are new to me, as much that... I've defied the ones in which I was raised."

The story was told so often that Cipher could recite it dispassionately.

"My mate died. Rather than get repaired--literally paired again--I chose to break convention. Who could replace my mate? But that choice exiled me from the system. I was a free radical left to my own devices." A faraway look came over his eyes. "I went to Starfleet. My need for therapy disqualified me for a commission, but my aptitude was too useful. They even assigned me a mechanical assistant to stand in for my deceased mate in hopes of helping me reorient to solitary living. Being alone... I never knew what it meant. Not having someone to finish my sentences, to complete my thoughts, to mirror my every notion."

Returning to himself, he looked at L'Noryn. "Being alone... I can do that now. My thoughts are my own without the need for someone to finish them. But being isolated is not how I am meant to live. The Variable showed me that. Now that I am one, I do not need another. Yet... I want to know what it means to connect as one to another."

He gave a half-smile. "I don't know how much of that makes sense. I just mean that I don't want special treatment. Act as you would with anyone else, and I'll follow along."

L'Noryn set the two plates of food down. Corndogs with a side of seasoned curly fries. Then she went to retrieve the coke floats and then sat them on the table. During that time. L'Noryn debated how she should reply. He and L'Noryn weren't the norm. They each had special needs that forever meant they could not be seen as normal as others would.

"Deltans have communes where we live in a polygamous, harmonious collective. Family units, as it were," L'Noryn explained. "It's a mental bond where thoughts and ideas are shared. Closeness forms. And when we are old enough to seek mates, we form a new unit. A new collective of common-minded young adults who eventually become lovers, and then family, once children begin to be born... A never-ending cycle I will never be given the opportunity to have... Closest I came, was to a man I thought I loved - John Flagg. I performed a Deltan ritual with him to fuse a semi-permanent connection reserved only for soulmates to forge - And I was sadly wrong in that act."

Why L'Noryn felt she needed to tell him about John, perplexed her. He was a selfish, self-absorbed bastard that only wanted the rush of a Deltan sexual partner. And she fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Severing the bond to this day, left a hole in her heart. Like anyone that did not wish to linger on those painful thoughts, she began to dig into her food. A forced smile to mask her own pain.

"I see." Cipher chewed on a fry while she spoke and found it rich and savory. "What an odd texture," he said absently. "I'm sorry, I really was listening. We often eat various forms of clay and fungus, so this is... different. But good different." He gave her an embarrassed smile. "I've ever only... mated... with my mate. We never bore offspring. Perhaps if we had, I might have accepted a repairing. It would be like a part of them had lived on." Further considering the Deltan's words as she explained her people's customs and her own personal forays into relationships, he realized that she possibly suffered a similar loss to his own. "Did something happen to this John Flagg? If so, you do not need to tell me. I only offer my condolences."

If nothing else, Cipher could offer that in abundance.

"He is assigned a medical officer billet normally given to someone three ranks below him - punishment for falsifying performance reviews on me," she explained with a hint of pain in her eyes. "He was my OR boss, at Starfleet Medical, while I was in Advanced Nurse Practioner School."

She took a small bite with her spoon, of the cola-coated ice cream, which caused her to smile heavenly. "He calls me once and a while, begging me to take him back. But as he used me, I do not think I can trust him."

Cipher's face twisted in anger. A blockchain blue streak poured from his lips.

"01000110 01010101 01000011 01001011 00001101 00001010 01010011 01001000 01001001 01010100 00001101 00001010 01000010 01001001 01010100 01000011 01001000 00001101 00001010 01000010 01000001 01010011 01010100 01000001 01010010 01000100 00001101 00001010 01001011 01000001 01001110 01001001 01000001 01011010!!!"

Taking several deep breaths, the Bynar managed to regain his composure. "Forgive my foul language. Perjury used to be a capital offense in more ancient times. To hear tell that someone you trusted inflicted it upon you for personal gratification is unconscionable... unforgivable, even." His lilac eyes grew wide in commiseration. Suddenly his own tragedy felt... less. "I am sorry this happened to you."

"It's fine," L'Noryn laughed easily. "He got his, in the end... Loss of any kind, though, the pain fades, but never goes. So I understand why you don't seek another to be fused with you. Though even if you chose that option, no one can replace another. Each person you come across makes new memories to add to your memory banks."

"That's... that's exactly it." Cipher smiled in wonder at how succinctly L'Noryn had put it. Looking at his corndog, he gave it a bite. It, too, was savory, but not as rich as the curly fry. The breading in particular was a delight. Perhaps, though, not as much as sharing it with L'Noryn.

"I might pair up again. But it has to be my choice. If pairing is just part of a systemic function, then what purpose does it really serve? Couldn't the system be altered? Shouldn't it be, unless a fundamental purpose does exist? That is what I wanted to find when I forswore repairing, even though I didn't understand what I was looking for. I just knew... something inside me said there was more than just being half of a whole."

Looking at L'Noryn, he pensively asked, "How did you get past it?"

"I had a lot of friends on the nursing staff," L'Noryn admitted with a smile. "That.. and I called a few of my old war buddies that had retired from the marines and on my off days, I'd go and shoot stuff with him. Grief therapy, Joxer called it."

The Head Nurse laughed jovially to the memory. So many tires shot to hell in that junkyard. As she dipped her corndog in a glob of honey, she continued to smile at the memory. "...You don't need an intimate soulmate as long as you have a strong support system of friends and family. So if you want a friend in me, ya got me."

"And should the time comes for deeper intimacy?" Cipher asked evenly. The complexity of the matter had turned it into an equation to be balanced. "I am not requesting at this time. Just curious."

"Well right now I don't have a lot of new friendships formed," L'Noryn admitted. "If intimacy is needed, then I typically keep an open mind about it."

Cipher hummed. "Relationships are confounding. Still, it is good to know that I will not be... alone." He smiled at L'Noryn. "How do I thank you? You lack the equipment for a traditional Bynar expression of gratitude."

"Think not of it," L'Noryn waved aside before she sipped on her coke float. "Friends should never demand gratitude of each other. Though on occasion, and simple Thanks is fine. At least for me."

"Then know that I am grateful," Cipher said just before following her example and sipping from his float. "Mmmmm... especially now." He began shamelessly draining the float through a straw.

"Humans call this 'Comfort Food'," L'Noryn explained. "You eat something your tastebuds are overjoyed to process. And it gives the brain temporary euphoria - so doesn't fix what makes us feel bad, but it does give brief happiness... So not a method to fix how we feel. But sometimes it's OK to indulge. Especially with a friend."

Cipher nodded eagerly. "Yes, this makes sense to me. Maybe we had this in our distant past on Bynaus, but in modern times we simply hook our processors up to the Praxis, our massive multi-user augmented reality overlay. It is worlds-within-worlds, and therein we experience sensations directly wired to our brains." Rolling his tongue around in his mouth to savor the physical feeling, he continued. "There is something to be said for the real thing, though. I like it."

"Maybe with enough planning, I'll take you shooting," L'Noryn smiled. "While I do like sitting and getting to know you, I admit I was a bit unprepared. So yeah... next play date, we can actually play."

The mention of shooting made Cipher shudder. "I... suppose. Truth be told, I never so much as saw a weapon until enlisted boot camp."

"I shoot targets, not animals," L'Noryn assured, though she did frown when she thought about her time with the Marines. "When I deployed to a warzone, though, I did have to do some patrols in the forest... Can't say for sure if I ever killed the enemy, but I was forced to fire my weapon more than once. My unit never would confirm if I hit anything in the thick brush. Maybe because they were good guys. Didn't want me to deal with an ugly truth that they themselves were haunted by and still are."

Cipher nodded solemnly. "I never swore any oaths save to myself. There is enough death in the universe. The only part I will have with it is depriving it of fodder."

"I can hunt," L'Noryn confirmed. "I have done it in my youth. Though then, we used traps we made of string and branches to make small spike cages - good for catching small creatures like squirrels and rabbits... It was either we hunt, or we starve, which is pretty much the only reason I would willingly hunt now. For me, shooting at targets is all I need."

"Sport," Cipher said. "Weapons that do not harm... are used for sport." He nodded in approval at his own rationalization. "Perhaps... that could be leisurely."

"Aye. Target shooting is a sport, actually." L'Noryn smiled and reached on the table for one of her PADDs. "In fact... There is a Federation shooting competition that both military and civilians take part in. Top 100 shooters get a tab they can wear on their uniform or jacket."

L'Noryn showed him the tab on a picture. White writing on a field of sky blue which read: Presidential Marksmen.

"Qualifying for it's a bitch. Top marine recon snipers and Rapid Response riflemen typically fill most preliminary military shooter slots. Civilians are granted eighty slots... But to have that tab is a rare thing," L'Noryn noted with envy. "I know of one person in my former marine posting to earn it."

"It definitely seems prestigious," Cipher said, looking more at L'Noryn than the PADD. "Is that one of your aspirations?"

"Maybe..." L'Noryn pondered that for a bit. "I mean... It's not like I can qualify this far out and then go back to Earth for a competition. That'd be a month-long absence for an achievement not everyone in the military community thinks is a worthwhile time expense. But yes, it would be nice to at least be able to compete."

"Still," Cipher insisted. "It's something to look forward to." The statement came with the realization that he had no such aspiration. Life, at least for him, was still undefined. "Hobbies are good things. I... I need a hobby."

L'Noryn nodded her head in agreement as she scooped honey up with her dog. "Some like to paint. Others dive into sports or martial arts... I have been learning Vulcan martial arts for quite some time, though I'm not nearly as proficient as my foster mom is. Mostly you just try something until you find an activity you enjoy. Don't have to be good at it either."

"I think..." Cipher paused a moment, considering the possibilities. "... I would like to build something. But not anything necessary nor aesthetic. Just... functional."

"My Vulcan father does woodburning," L'Noryn suggested and went on to explain. "He takes blank, rectangular wood boards and burns the wood into what looks like a painting, especially when he starts to stain and dye the wood. Looks much like 3D art popping out. Though his designs are typically Vulcan... Humans tend to be more creative with their 3D wood art."

Cipher just stared. "Couldn't they do all of that more quickly and efficiently with digital programming or even with a replicator?"

"Possibly... But then the replicator would be the artist. Not you," L'Noryn responded after a moment to consider his suggestion. "Doing things with your hands is part of the charm for artists."

Looking at his hands, Cipher could only stare. "I've saved lives with my hands. Is that like art?"

"I'd say it's more a gift. But some surgeons I know look at what their peers do and marvel at the way in which other surgeons can cut so clean and expertly. It is seen as art, in some way," L'Noryn informed. "Art is a subjective point-of-view. What is art to one, is garbage to another."

Cipher scrunched one side of his face in thought. "Sounds awkward. Yet, as I've recently learned, a variable can have infinite value."

L'Noryn nodded in agreement and finished the last bite of her meal. "We can try painting or clay sculptures next time you want to come over for leisure."

"I like the sound of that," Cipher said. "Next time."

After receiving instructions from the Dauntless on where they could be most effective planetside, the Emergency response team- including the rescue detachment- headed to the planet to see what they could do to help. The medics went to work immediately setting up the tents in which the doctors work while everyone else was encouraged to go find the nearest injured and begin assessing the damage.

Wide terraced fields of a grain genotype made the smaller settlements the emergency crews flew overlook like ships lost upon a golden sea. It was only as they got closer to the main settlement of Riptide, the city their local RCN guide had called 'Alpenhab', that the damage began to appear. Sooty smog lingered in the air around the city from where rich fields were now blackened from fire. Some had the characteristic streak lines of areo staffing runs, and here and there were the wrecks of ships that had fallen from the skies.

Alpenhab looked like a fairytale castle of sorts, with tiered walls of some sort of machine formed masonry protecting more delicate but suitably sturdy prefabricated structures. Alpenhab was a city in name only, and more like a frontier township propped up by the local RCN military presence. Which, as longboats from the orbiting battle fleet could be seen lifting and descending, was considerable.

Sexington, with his assault phaser at port arms, stood in front of his six member security team. "Alright teams, here are your assignments: Team Greasy Slobs, you will guard the hospital entrance. Team Panty Sniffers, you will act as a roving patrol. Team Monkey Dicks, you will act as a reserve and will be deployed near the hospital HQ. Any questions?"

An older security NCO by the name of Sadler raised his hand and Sexington acknowledged him. "Not really a question Lieutenant. I speak for everyone here. We don't like our team names. They're degrading. Why don't we just go by Team One, Team Two, and Team Three?"

"My way is better. It helps me remember who is in which team and keeps you lot straight." Sexington replied.

"Is that how you see us?" Sadler was a bit angry. "We won't use them and if you call us by them we won't respond."

"Now look here." Sexington's tone became more aggressive. "Not responding to an officer's orders are insubordinate and mutinous. I'll have you thrown in the brig."

A doctor who stood nearby- and who also outranked Sexington- had overheard the whole thing. At first, she thought it was a joke and Sexington would laugh and agree to simpler names, but why did she expect from someone named Sexington anyway? "Sexington," she interrupted, barely avoiding rolling her eyes. "You can't call people greasy slobs, panty sniffers, or monkey dicks. It's not only unprofessional but demeaning. I can't believe I even have to say this," she added in an undertone, shaking her head.

"They are called mnemonics, Doctor." Sexington replied with a snort of disdain. "It is a device combat units use to distinguish each other. I'm sure you are good at medicine but please leave the security to work to the professionals."

“Use mnemonics all you want,” replied the doctor, “but make sure they’re not insulting. Or I’ll have you thrown in the brig.”

"A medical officer throwing a security officer in the brig? Don't make me laugh." Sexington replied in a haughty voice, ignorant of how much of jerk he sounded like.

"You won't be laughing in the brig," replied the Doctor acerbically. "Don't make me pull rank on you."

Cait shook her head and chuckled to herself at the Security Officer. "Set up triage over there," she told a medic guiding a hover dolly loaded down with containers. "In front of the surgical tent. They'll get the canopy up once the area is set up. Use the containers as a border for now.". She looked at her PADD. "Tags are in container 14," she called out. "Field Trauma Kits are in 6. I want everyone of the First Response teams to be equipped with one before they go out. Let's get to work.". With that she headed to the area she had pointed to and started overseeing the unloading of containers.

"They want to know where to put the hover gurnies," a young enlisted crewman said as he brought in another dolly of containers.

"Over there by the generators so they can be recharged," Cait replied.

As the group discussed in frank terms the suitable etymology of their creed, a trio of locals marched towards them from behind the field hospital. One of them was in heavy-looking armour plate, the motion of his limbs accompanied by the hum of servos. The other two beside him looked to be civilians, one in a white smock with a red cross over her breast, and the other a nervous bookish looking fell with an unfortunately parted mop of brown hair.

Alex walked up to Cait as he walked the trio approach. "The locals, I presume," he said.

Diminutive and easily overlooked, Cipher kept close to Alex's side and surveyed everything from one end of the horizon to the other. They certainly had their work cut out.

Cait had just assembled a utility tray with a bioscanner, dermal regenerator, burn plasts, empty hypospray and a radiograph tablet. She glanced over Alex's shoulder at the approaching trio and said, "great. I hope they don't get underfoot." She held out the tray to the nurse standing beside her. "I want one of these on every gurney. When they are charged we'll put them in the stage 2 area. They can be used as biobeds."

"My people can take care of that, Ma'am," Alex said, then quietly issued orders to the corpsmen and med techs to that effect.

Cait stopped in her tracks and looked at Alex. "While the others may treat you guys as glorified bedpan pushers I know you are worth much more than that," she said. "We have enough grunts around here to do this stuff. We need you guys out there on the front lines giving aid to the wounded before they get here and on the way....give them a better chance of survival. Get your team, latch on to one of Sexington's teams. He's sending them to start looking for wounded. They should have medical with them that won't faint at the sight of blood."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Alex said. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He turned to his people. "You heard the lieutenant! She seems to think we're more than just a bunch of pretty faces! Let's go prove her right!"

There was a haphazard chorus of 'Aye, aye, Senior!' as the IDCs and other corpsmen familiar with combat trauma started moving out.

"And, Alex," Cait called. When he turned back to her she tossed him a Field Trauma Kit. "Don't forget these," she said with a grin.

Alex caught the kit and laughed. "Yes, Ma'am!" he said, and then trotted off. Truth was, he had his own kit, a personally designed field kit from his days with the Raiders, but an extra wouldn't hurt, and the sentiment behind it, and the trust, was appreciated.

"Are there any particular hazards of which we should be aware?" Cipher asked. A reckless SAR worker could end up in the body count just the same.

"Ask them," Cait relied nodding toward the approaching trio of locals. She went to the door of the surgical tent and looked inside. "You folks ready to start receiving? Our medics are in the field as we speak."

"Bring 'em in!" called Dr. Brahams. "We're as ready as we'll ever be."

"Mother, the meds are here," a nurse called out to Cait.

Cait flashed a thumbs up to Dr. Brahams and turned back to the nurse. "Put half of the antibiotics and dermagel in that cool case by the Treat and Street barrier and Dr. Brahams gets the rest of the container."

"You got it, Mother," the nurse said and began transferring meds from the container to the Treat and Street cooler.

tag (if any)

On his way across the camp to search for wounded, Theo's path deliberately veered so that he intercepted the inbound locals. He approached them, boldly and with a serious but interested expression on his face, speaking in a clear tone in a voice that carried easily without shouting. "Hey," he said, amicably. "Can I help you?"

"Medicant Officer Lynch," the woman said as she sidestepped him. "I run medical operations in this sector of Alpenhab. This is my Savant, Gregor. Say hello Gregor."

"Greetings and salutations to you good Sir," the nervous man with the unfortunately parted hair said. "An affable pleasure to make the personage of yourself known to my memorandum."

"You get used to that," Lynch said. "Now we can keep talking, or I can help get your people access to power, water, supplies, and get your more specialised teams out to where they are needed. Alpenhab got hit hard by the Reka, but a few of the outlier Habs got hit as well."

The man in armour said nothing, but like a tank with a funny slogan on the barrel, he somehow spoke volumes.

"Lieutenant Theo Hunnicutt, medical advisor to the SAR team," said Theo as he fell into place witih the three. "And agreed, access to utiliies and resources would be very welcome. Directions and support for our team would definitely help, for sure. Thank you." He looked for, and wolf-whistled to gain, Cypher's attention as they proceeded further into the makeshift camp.

"SAR? Search & Rescue?" The armoured figure asked. "I'm Captain Trease of the 2nd Cresti Fusiliers. If your SAR team goes out beyond Alpenhab it'll do so with a full squad of my troops backing it up. No offence, but from what I've heard your crew has zero combat knowledge of the Reka. During their raids, they leave behind spoiler units to cause havoc, go after first responders. Your team would not likely enjoy meeting a hungry Reka raiding party, they eat the wounded."

Theo nodded at that initial question, but didn't interrupt the Captain until he mentioned the Reka's choice of hunger resolution. "Thank you, Captain," he acknowledged the insistence of support and protection gratefully. "They eat the wounded?" Theo said rather than asked, and his horrified expression coloured his words.

'That is statistically a falsehood, as Reka have been documented eating healthy members of mammalian species without undue consideration to the index of over all enjoyment," Gregor piped up.

"Gregor, go find the Utilities Guild Hall and set up feed lines for our guest. I assume your equipment use electricity? I was told there is something of a...gap incompatibility we'll need to address. We're a frontier settlement so a lot of what we have should work with what you've got," Lynch instructed the overly verbose Savant. "Most of the wounded we have are suffering lacerations and close contact energy discharge wounds. But the Reka also hit a power cell, so we've got depleted matter contamination to deal with. Does your team have anyone conversant in hazardous materials?"

Cipher raised his hand. "I'm your man. Can you give me building specs and other details of the AO?"

Lynch took a second to look the Bynar up and down. Or perhaps middle and down, given the height difference.

"Follow Gregor, where he's going he can access a data coil to get you the information you need. He should also be able to give you a crash course in depleted matter contamination," Lynch looked over at the armoured Trease. "I'll leave you to get their SAR team sortied whilst I bring in the wounded?"

"Agreeable. If your SAR team comes with me, I have a lifter ready on the pad. Unless your team would prefer to use their own craft?" The Carcosian soldier asked.

Cipher nodded. "I will accompany you and have our runabout follow behind. By your lead."

Upon her arrival, Kate took a brief moment to survey the scene around her. Her surroundings wouldn't match matter once she got to work and the wounded and traumatized were all she could see before her, but she took the opportunity to take the scene in and say a little prayer before the organized chaos was in full swing. Her doctor's heart wanted to join the search and rescue teams and start bringing in wounded, but she knew she would have to balance her dual hats carefully. While it was true the priority was physical survival, it was just as accurate to say minimizing the psychological impact of such carnage intending to emotional wounds would prevent long lasting harm, no different from providing surgery and dermal regeneration to prevent long lasting external scars.

Understanding the importance of coordinating well with The entire medical staff, Dallas knew her immediate priority was to assist with triage, and specifically, to create a space for those with minor external injuries but severe psychological shock to receive assistance. There would be no escape from the horrors their patients had endured, but that didn't mean Dallas wasn't going to try and spare them some anguish by keeping them together and away from the most grievously physically hurt.

Dallas approached Donovan, who seemed to be coordinating triage. Kate didn't know the other woman well, having just joined the team, but she approached respectfully. Dallas worked primarily as a psychiatrist now, but she knew the cardinal rule: Don't piss off the nurses. "Lieutenant Donovan," Dallas offered just loud enough to be heard, "I was thinking we could set up a separate tent for those who have been assessed to have relatively minor external injuries, but who are in severe psychological shock. I'd like to do all I can to minimize their exposure to the most severely wounded people to reduce, but certainly not prevent, the worst of the psychological aftermath."

Cait turned and extended her hand in greeting. "People around here call me Mother," she said as she shook the Counselor's hand. "That's a great idea. Unfortunately we don't have another tent. Just a canopy like this one." She indicated the canopy they were currently standing under. Then she looked around, chewed on her lower lip a few seconds then said, "however...," and drew the word out, "...we could put it up next to the entrance we set up at that end," she pointed to the other end of the canopy, "and set up some sort of curtain to seclude it from triage," she looked around again. "...with those tarps." She indicated the tarps being removed from the containers.

Kate shook the offered hand warmly and smiled when Cait mentioned her nickname. It was not a nickname that would be associated with Dallas, but the therapist was certainly maternal and could relate to the sentiment. She appreciated the nurse's ingenuity. "I think that's a fantastic idea and very ingenious. Shall I help you set it up? "

Cait nodded. "Let's do it," she said, enthusiastically. Seeing an engineer doing nothing she snapped her fingers and said, "hey Gold Shirt...give us a hand setting up that canopy your sitting on."

Kate offered a sympathetic look to the engineer and resisted the urge to mouth an apology. She didn't know whether to be concerned or impressed with how easily the nurse ordered others around. "I'd really appreciate the extra set of hands," Dallas offered to the engineer.

"Mother...," one of the corpsmen said, bounding up to them with energy to spare. "Want a hand with that?"

"The more the merrier," Cait said with a grin. "Grab those tarps over there." With that she began to help the engineer unwrap the canopy.