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Theo Whittaker

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    LtJg Sasch Kreshkova - I Didn't Mean to Cause a Scene

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    ((USS Narendra, Sickbay))

    Sasch sat at her console.  She had already put in the coordinates to return them to SB 118, so now, her hands lay flat on the console without any movement.  Her eyes had become fixated at a point between her hands as she tried to cogitate over what had happened to her in the last hour.  And while there were many things that she did that helped keep the crew safe, all she could consider was that she had become a Borg drone.  She could have hurt so many people…But she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.  She recognized him as one of the Narendra’s other pilots.

    Deluna:  ::Stepping up beside the console.:: I’m here to relieve you, Lieutenant.  You’re free to head to sickbay.

    It took Sasch a moment to process what he had said.  Once she realized what he was telling her, she stood up from her seat without so much as a word and turned slowly and gingerly to head for the turbolift doors.  

    Was everyone watching her?  Were they afraid of her?  Every single one of them on the bridge knew what she had become.  They had watched her transform into a drone - a mindless killing machine.

    Oo  But I didn’t kill anyvone, oO she reminded herself.  

    Oo But you could have, oO an internal voice told her.  Oo You still could. oO  It taunted her.

    Her mouth opened to angrily form the word, ‘No,’ but she caught herself just in time.   She was aware that any outburst would draw more attention to her, and that was the last thing she wanted.  She could already feel the redness creeping up her neck to her ears - a tell-tale sign that she was embarrassed.

    But on her way to the turbolift, she felt dizzy and for a second, she wasn’t sure that she was going to be able to keep her footing, so she reached out for a console to steady herself, refusing to look at the person manning the console.  She couldn’t bear to see the disdain for her that she knew must be written in their eyes.  Part of her wanted to go nowhere but her quarters and find a way to self-medicate herself to sleep, but her concern for her shipmates - if the medicine Tito had given her was suddenly ineffective - won out over her current embarrassment.  Actually, it was the thought of being further shamed if she transformed into a drone once again, that drove her to head to sickbay.  

    As the pilot entered the turbolift, she realized that something was oozing down beside her right eye.  She reached a hand up to feel for what was causing it.  But as soon as her fingers touched her temple, she grimaced.  The pain, which she wasn’t even aware of until that moment - her focus being completely elsewhere, surged through her entire head.  She turned herself sideways and nearly lost what little contents she had in her stomach.  She knew she wasn’t the only one who had entered the turbolift, but she dare not raise her eyes to them, even to apologize for nearly coating their footwear with detritus from her stomach.  Once she gained a bit more control over herself, she gently held the material of her uniform at her wrist against the gash on her head in hopes of staunching the flow of blood.

    Fortunately for her, the ride to sickbay was short.  Letting everyone else who was getting off go before her go, she lagged back.  Her head was pouding; her wrists were sore, as were her ribs - probably from when the shockwave tossed her chest and then head into the console.  Sasch joined the back of the queue outside of sickbay, waiting her turn.  Slowly, person by person, the line ahead of her continued to shrink until she finally made it within the confines of sickbay itself.  

    Still, her eyes never left the floor.  And when the last person in front of her had been ushered to a biobed, she was afraid to look up.  A moment of panic seized her.  Oo  Zhis is silly,  I…I don’t… really don’t need to be here.  Zhe ozhers, zhey are vorse off zhan I am.  Maybe I’ll just go back to my qvarters.oO 

    But she as she took her first step toward the door.  She heard a nurse say …

    Nurse: Doctor Wethern can see you now, Lieutenant.

    Wethern.  Wethern.  With the throbbing in her head, it took Sasch a moment to place the name.  She had met him in a tavern on Bardeez.  He had seemed nice enough at the time, and if she had just hit her head or banged her ribs, she wouldn’t have hesitated to see him.  But she couldn’t … she just couldn’t get past this overwhelming sense of shame over what she had become - even if temporarily.  Turning her head in the direction of the door so she didn’t have to look at either Wethern or the nurse she said …

    Kreshkova:  I zhink, I’ll return to my qvarters.  I’m sure I vill be fine.

    Nurse:  Lieutenant, you’ve obviously got a cut on your temple.  If nothing else, you need that cleaned and repaired.  ::Motions to Wethern to come help her with the Russian.::

    Wethern:  ?

    Kreshkova:  Really. ::Her volume rising slightly and backing away from the direction of the two staff::  I zink, I vill be fine.  

    But at the increased volume resonating around in her cranium, this time, the sound and the pain were too much for her, and she did lose what little contents she had in her stomach.

    Wethern:  ?

    Embarrassed even further - and knowing that there was now no way she was getting out of sickbay without being seen, Sasch acquiesced to treatment.  And since treatment meant a visit to the biobed, she allowed herself to be led over.  And while her eyes weren’t glued to the floor, she couldn’t bring herself to look the doctor in the eye.  Instead, she focused on his chin as she said …

    Kreshkova:  I am sorry, doctor Wezhern.  I didn’t mean to cause a scene.

    Wethern: ?

    ~*~
    tags/tbc
    ~*~
    LtJg Sasch Kreshkova
    Helm
    SB 118
    OPSO240103SK2

    This is another stunning character piece, set in the wake of the Battle of Frontier Day. I was engrossed from start to finish @Sasch Kreshkova ❤️

    • Like 3

    Lt. Commander Solaris McLaren - Reliving.

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    This was an excellently written character study that I actually snook off from my desk at work to read! ❤️ @Solaris

    Quote

    (( Starfleet Intelligence Headquarters - Vauxhall Cross - London ))

     


    Sol sat quietly in the interview room. She didnt appear particularly upbeat or happy. Neither was she depressed. She was just currently existing. This was now the third of what she was sure was going to be the same interview she had already had two previous times, and likely would atleast a few more times in the coming days. It was a test to see if her story remained consistent. Part of her road back to active duty. Of course there was also counseling, and medical checks too. But those were somehow less annoying.


    She wasnt in uniform, but she wasnt dressed as she normally would have been. A bandage covered her forehead above her left eye and she wore a black glove on her right hand. Reminders of what she had been through. Wyn had done his best, but he couldnt remove everything. Some of the implants had fused to her. They were dormant, and there wasnt even a nanoprobe to be found in her. He had said he would find a way, but Sol had waved him off it, thinking she needed a reminder of what happened when you were careless. Her hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. She was dressed in a semi-professional looking blue dress, and a pair of black heels, one of which clacked on the floor impatiently.


    She reached up fiddling with her sunstone necklace, as the door opened and the interviewer walked in a few PADDs in his hands. The three gold pips on their collaer glistened even in the dim like of the room.


    Interviewer: Commander McLaren. Thank you for coming.


    McLaren: It's not as if I had much of a choice.... but you know... sure.


    The interviewer chuckled, organizing their PADDs.


    Interviewer: No... not as such.


    Sol rolled her eyes, letting the sunstone pendant rest against her chest. The interviewer slid a PADD across the table.


    Interviewer: On your most recent mission, the Operations staff of Starbase 118, including yourself, were tasked with dealing with an emerging situation on Miri four alpha. Correct?


    Sol skimmed the PADD, which was her own report of the situation on the moon and the resoulution that the crew had engineered, including the apprehension of the person who caused the situation in the first place. If she had known what would have occurred after she wouldn't have departed before the rest of the crew of the Narendra had. She nodded, setting the PADD back onto the table.


    McLaren: That's correct.


    Interviewer: What happened after the conclusion of that mission?


    Sol sighed. She had gone through this twice and it was growing old.


    McLaren: I was contacted by Admiral Vivian Hauke, the commander-in-chief for the Trinity Sector. She requested my presence on Raskor, believing there was a situation brewing here in Sol after she had received several worrying reports.


    Interviewer: And how did you get to Raskor?


    McLaren: The starship Kongo, a ship tasked to Intel in Trinity, picked me up from the moon and dropped me off. :: Sol paused for a brief moment then continued premepting the Interviewer's next question. :: I met with the Admiral very briefly and then departed via a slipspace courier for Earth.


    The interviwer flashed her a look.


    McLaren: Youve asked me the same questions every time Ive been in here... you cant be surprised I have them memorized.


    Interviewer: What happened when you arrived on Earth Spacedock?


    McLaren: I checked in with the station's Director of Intelligence and informed them of my task. I then proceded to commence my investigation, with some assistance from that stations intelligence department.


    The interviewer tapped a few notes into one of his PADDs, sliding another across the table.


    Interviewer: I see. :: He paused. :: It was aboard the station where everything ocurred?


    McLaren: For the third time, yes. While the station was preparing for the festivities to commence, there were several unexplained systems malfunctions. Believeing them to be related to the reports Admiral Hauke received I investigated. None of the systems seemed relevant to anything related to the Frontier Day celebrations, but they were too conincidental to ignore.


    Interviewer: What did you find in the course of your investigation?


    McLaren: I spent some time in the lower sections of the station. Much of the crew were on parade duty for the launch of the Enterprise, so those sections were mostly empty at the time.


    Interviewer: Commander--


    Sol sighed, fixing the Commander in front of her with a pointed look.


    McLaren: Im getting there... context is important... context is everything, you should know that. :: She paused, taking a breath. :: I dismissed the few officers assisting me while I continued my investigation. No reason everyone should miss the launch of the Enterprise.


    Interviewer: You didnt want to see it?


    McLaren: Youve seen one big starship launch youve seen them all. Also, Im fairly disappointed that Starfleet would have wasted that ship with an early decommissioning so I saw no point to take part. PLus I was there to work.


    The interviewer just made some notes.


    McLaren: I was alone when the ship launched, though I heard Admiral Shelby's speech over the internal comms. I have to say hearing Shelby praise something so... Borg-like... was something else, especially given the hindsight I now possess.


    The interviewer tapped his finger on the desk. Sol just smiled, taking her time.


    McLaren: Shortly before she activated the formation system, the section of the station I was in went dark. No internal communications, no lights and even the doors barely worked. As I advanced further into the section, I started to observe evidence of Borg incursion on to the station. Bulkheads were covered in their tech, but not a 


    Interviewer: And then?


    McLaren: I started to make my way out of the section, but was ambushed by several drones, right around the time the formation system was activated. I managed to take one down but was overwhelmed shorlty after.


    Interviewer: You were assimilated at this point?


    Sol glared at the interviewer. Why? She had no idea. They were correct, that was when it had happened. She closed her eyes focusing on her breathing. She felt her hand start to shake, and quickly pulled it off the table, clenching it into a fist. She could feel the tendrils that were still running down the back of her hand and fingers rubbing against the inside of her glove. The interviewer just sat there silently, observing her. Sool took a few more breaths. She had never had qualms about walking into dangerous situations. Going undercover. Fire fights. Starship battles. Unknown planets. But even thinking about what happened was enough to bring her to pieces.


    McLaren: Yes. :: She continued speaking. :: A terrible feeling... hot and cold... quiet and loud... all at the same time.


    Interviewer: Commander you don't--


    McLaren: Yes I do! You asked. You always ask. :: She sighed. :: I dont understand what happened to the younger members of the crews later on... but I know what happened to me. I remember in in vivid detail. :: She stood, pacing a bit on her side of the table. :: I was taken deeper into the section. They had converted it into their own tidy little unimatrix. I was implated with technology...  sent against my own crew... my own family.


    She hadnt gone this far the last two times. Those had just been standard recountings.


    Interviewer: Commander you seem agitated...


    McLaren: Really? Agitated? I was violated within an inch of my life! Agitated doesnt even begin to cover it, Commander. :: She turned to face the Commander still seated across the table. :: And now I get to relive it. Multiple times, thanks to this farce. :: Not to mention the counseling sessions. And the veiled looks she got from the crew on the Narendra itself. :: Ive told my story the same every time... what happened on spacedock, on the Narendra... everything is consistent. So, due respect Commander, make your report... but stop calling me in here to do this little song and dance. Youre handsome, but you arent my type.


    Sol set herself down in the chair, resting her head in her hands. The interviewer tapped a few more notes.


    Interviewer: I anymore will be necessary Commander.


    Sol looked up, raising an eyebrow. Just waiting for them to continue.


    Interviewer: My report will clear you of any blame. Medical will have to clear you for duty... but Intelligence is satisfied for you to return to your old position when that time comes.


    McLaren: Why now? Why not after the second time?


    Interviewer: You were disassociating from it. If you had kept going down that path... you wouldnt have been any good to us... and you are a good agent. I needed to see that you werent at risk of that... because it would put you or your crew in danger in your line of work.


    McLaren: So all I had to do with yell at you? If I had known that...


    Interviewer: Well, I would have preferred not... you are well known for your fiery gazes, and they live up to the rumor... but its a start. :: He gathered his PADDs, standing. Sol looked up at him. :: I hope your recovery is speedy, and smooth, Commander McLaren. Have a good afternoon.

     

     

     

    He turned and left the room, leaving Sol slightly bewildered. She leaned back in the char for a moment, hand returning to her pendant. She laughed, before standing herself and heading out of the room herself. She had been expecting it to go longer and now was at a loss for something to do. She strolled down the corridor, having only been to the building a few times. Maybe she would just go back to the Narendra... no, too many looks there... she would visit home. See her parents. Maybe have a nervous breakdown. Yea... that sounded good. Mostly.
     
     
    ~~~
     
     
    Lt. Commander Solaris McLaren
    Director of Intelligence
    Starbase 118 Ops
    C239210SM0

     

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    SB118 Ops: Quotations of the Week!

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    Risian, crisis response, security officer, a positive influence, mother, girlfriend; packaging all of Haukea-Willow into a single description, a life changing choice, was impossible. Yes, in her lifetime dealing with security matters, Haukea had faced death, yet never before had she been tasked with taking an individual’s life in her hands. It froze her thought process. Which decision was morally correct? 

    @Haukea-Willow, I thought that this was a beautiful piece of prose ❤️

    • Like 7

    SB118 Ops: Quotations of the Week!

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    Sal Taybrim had spent three years being on the hitlist of most major criminal and enemy empires, and he had survived a dozen assassination attempts – including two that came so close that he saw the assassin and was a hair’s breadth from no longer breathing.

    Or as Theo might call it: a typical Thursday morning (after the Wednesday beheadings.)

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    "Don't Eat The Mushrooms" and other sage advice from the USS Oumuamua

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    Quite a lot had happened in the last twenty months or so. He'd been “killed in action”, actually wounded, lost upon a planet wracked by civil war and none-too-friendly towards the Federation, fought as part of a group trying to reestablish the lawful government, wounded again, been on the run and then escaped. He'd then been put through the mill by Starfleet Intel, retrained as a Marine and then fired off to a different quadrant instead of back to 118 and his daughter.

    Also known as a quiet Thursday afternoon for @Arturo Maxwell.

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    "Don't Eat The Mushrooms" and other sage advice from the USS Oumuamua

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    Aine's first stint in the chair wasn't what she expected it to be. Because she never really expected to ever sit in it unless it was an absolute emergency. But thus far she had a mouthy Ensign, sensor hogging scientists, a missing away team, and possible hallucinations that could have been caused by who knows what. Was it Tuesday already?

    I love this Generations reference and can confirm Iljor will be throwing @Lhandon_Nilsen in an airl- brig. I meant brig. 

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