@Anath G'Renn wrote this.
((Duty Doctor’s Office - Deck 18, USS Blackwell))
::Sleepwalking would be the best way to describe Anath the entire day of the memorial service for the lost members of the Blackwell crew who had been lost when the ship had run into that minefield. It was strange, every time she thought that her feelings of grief and anger couldn’t get any worse they always managed to.::
::When the disaster first happened there was so much raw fury and grief mixed in with the fear and confusion of being caught in the moment, fueled by adrenaline and anxiety. It couldn’t get worse than that. Then came the aftermath and the autopsies. Those hazy memories clouded by stress and a storm of feelings almost felt like one long and very dark nightmare. Having to perform the gruesome task of verifying just how each one had died hit home how very real everything had been. The barely contained despair, the flashes of anger whenever her thoughts turned towards those responsible. It couldn’t get worse than that. Then there was their shore leave on Oscion, a time for relaxation and time with friends. But in the back of her mind she kept remembering the names on the casualty list, whenever she was finding herself enjoying their shore leave. She always drifted back to the people who would have no more shore leaves, and no more missions either. No matter what she did she couldn’t escape that nagging feeling. It couldn’t get worse than that.::
Nurse: Doctor G’Renn, it is time for shift change! The rest of us are going to the memorial service.
::She looked up from her desk, pulled back into the present from her world of introspection by the nurse’s voice. Anath nodded quietly and motioned for the sickbay staff to switch out with their replacements. She had tried to build the schedule that day to allow as many people as possible could have the option to attend the memorial service. The massive sickbay felt somewhat off with a meager skeleton crew on watch as was always often the case during shore leave.::
Nurse: Will you be joining us, doctor?
G’Renn: Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you…
::Anath handed over the reigns to sickbay to the next doctor on duty before hanging up her lab coat and heading towards the turbolift. As she walked, memories of one of the autopsies played back in her mind.::
((Flashback - USS Blackwell, Morgue - Two days after the minefield encounter))
::Anath keyed a sequence of commands into the wall panel, causing the morgue cold chamber to seal back shut. She had just finished the formal set of scans and tests that protocol dictated were done to confirm what she already knew. Ensign Kalto had died of multiple internal injuries caused by a piece of ceiling falling on her. Anath knew very well what had happened as she had been the one to drag the debris off of the ensign and have her moved to sickbay.::
Nurse: Subject scans are being uploaded to the file now. Autopsy report just needs you to sign off on it.
G’Renn: Thank you for your help, I’ll handle it from here.
::After the nurse left Anath approached the desk where the autopsy report was open on a desktop monitor. She scrolled through the report to make sure they hadn’t missed anything or filled in any information incorrectly.::
G’Renn: Everything seems right…
::But it wasn’t. Nothing about the situation she was in was right! The autopsy report was filled out correctly and it was not an unusual situation for a doctor to find themselves in, but the whole encounter with the minefield and the alien ships were just all wrong. The damage to the ship, the destruction of the other alien vessel, and the deaths of her crewmates. What for, what meaning did their losses have? Starfleet officers knew the risks of their chosen profession well. The threat of death was omnipresent when exploring the final frontier and defending the Federation from threats. But there was no heroic death or even a meaningful sacrifice for the crewmembers that now occupied the cold chambers in the morgue. Just casualties lost in a tragic accident all caused by some coward’s minefield.::
G’Renn: Computer, confirming details for autopsy report Kalto, Alyssa. Authorization G’Renn Omega 4-5.
::The computer beeped to confirm that it had saved the autopsy report. She sighed and sunk deeper into the chair before glancing around the morgue. There were still autopsies to be done, too many. She never wanted to see the room so full ever again if she could help it.::
((Corridor - Deck 18, USS Blackwell))
G’Renn: oO Yes, her too! Oo
::When an inquisitive child had asked whether or not their substitute teacher was going to be saved as well that had been her answer. Ensign Kalto had not been dead upon discovery. She was still fighting for life when they found her under a piece of ceiling in the schoolroom. But even getting there in time hadn’t been enough to save her. Anath had promised that she would be safe too, and now she was dead. Names and faces came to mind as she walked down the corridor.::
G’Renn: oO Alyssa Kalto. Ensign. Found in the schoolroom. Oo
G’Renn: oO Nigel Buchanan. Ensign. Found in his quarters Oo
G’Renn: oO Robert Smith. Petty Officer, 3rd Class. Found in the gymnasium. Oo
::The fire of feelings spread through her, boiling away any sense of tranquility and order in her mind left as she stepped into the turbolift. She couldn’t face it! Growing up on Vulcan had made it hard to find ways to express her emotions, and it was coming back to haunt her now especially. She couldn’t take it, or let the others see her in such a state.::
G’Renn: Deck 12
((G’Renn’s Quarters - Deck 12, USS Blackwell))
::Once she was in her quarters she stepped into the small bedroom off of the common area in her quarters and let out a long sigh. She pulled off her uniform jacket and the teal shirt beneath it, untucking her gray undershirt before falling onto the bed and letting out a long sigh. The grief was driving her up the wall, and she felt powerless to stop it. Only making things worse was the realization of how poorly prepared she was revealing herself to be.::
::The uniform shirt now laying on the foot of the bed was teal. The color of the Science department in Starfleet, as well as the Medical department. She was a doctor, first and foremost! While she might like to focus on the good she did, having studied medicine to keep as many people as possible from experiencing the same experience of a loved one’s death that she had gone through so many years before. She always assumed that she could handle the inevitable times when she would lose patients. It wasn’t her fault, she had done everything that she could to save them. But that thought did little to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside. Part of her wondered if she really had what it took to be a doctor at all if she couldn’t deal with the inevitable downside of being a healer. Questions kept popping up as Anath set her head on her pillow and let the exhaustion win. Could she truly expect to never lose a patient? How was she going to cope when she did? If she couldn’t handle that fact, did she have any business wearing that uniform?::
::Those were questions she had to answer, but she didn’t have to answer them right away.::
Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Anath G'Renn
Medical Officer, USS Blackwell - Andaris Task Force