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JP Dr. Liani & PNPC Probationary Ensign Zel Rohan, Sticks and Ston


Trellis Vondaryan
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((The backwater reaches of the badlands - planet Alcarin III - alleyways))
(Flashback - nearly 20 years ago)

::Rohan Marco had never liked doctors. Routine checkups on Bajor were a endurance tour of thinly veiled racist remarks whenever his hybrid physiology was concerned. Like a child could help how they were born and what genes carried their breath into this world. It instilled in him a wariness about doctors that was never shaken through all the physicals in Starfleet academy.

Still, he was generally a healthy person. For all the frustrations and unpleasant situations his half Cardassian, half Bajoran countenance gave him, at least it had also ensure him a general vigor that bested both species. Still, that was a thin prize - like an assurance that a sturdy physiology would only ensure a longer lifetime of hatred and derision.

Though it might not be a very long life if he didn't keep moving.

His feet pounded a steady drumbeat of panic as he moved through the broken alleyway. The lights of the main city were few and far between in the slums, and the feeble tendrils of visibility only stretched along the main path. Deviate from the main path and one treaded into a slime of depredation, fear and death.

And yet those darkened alleys held a tenuous thread of hope - they were the only places that the Narcene Guard feared to tread. The Guard were personal soldiers of the local Mayor - a self styled colonial lord that divided the population of Alcarin into the haves and the have nots. It was the sort of oppressive, fascist government that wouldn't fly in a more civilized location - but who cared about civilization on the back end of the badlands. All the shiny entities like Starfleet and the Federation could give a hang how many wicked colonial leaders carried out wholesale purges of populations they didn't like - native or otherwise - so long as nobody heard about it.

He had to find Zexx. The Pakled engineer had the parts to fix the shuttle that was their only ticket off this planet. Unfortunately Zexx had been shot in the leg while running away from the supply warehouse where he had stolen said parts. Their local guide, a Nacene named Gren Thoval said there was a doctor in the Alsace slums that might help. The doctor was a shady looking Zibalian named Enjo, who promised to get Zexx fixed up in no time. He assured Rohan that he could head out and get the rest of the parts he needed. Zexx should be recuperated in two days.

Which was all well and good, had anything gone right over those next two days. A rebel faction attacked the colonial capitol and the whole place was turned into a demilitarized zone. Zel had barely escaped with his life, let alone the missing parts, gained by a combination of canny bargaining and good old fashioned thievery. He had come too close to being shot a few too many times and the rebels were moving in to the position where their shuttle was hidden. It was clear Zexx and Rohan needed to leave Alcarin immediately.

He made the turn down the crumbling brick walkway that smelled of fecal matter and rotting rodent corpses, willing himself not to look down and identify what any particular 'crunch' under his boots was. He slipped down the crumbling brick wall, and to the basement landing where Doctor Enjo did his work. When a knock on the door prompted nothing, Zel pulled a spanner from his pocket and tested the strength of the old fashioned lock.

As the door clicked open, he was hit by the stench of sterilizing chemicals covering up the scent of blood and rotten flesh. It was more pungent than the last time, and Zel could only hope that was due to casualties coming in from the fighting. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the harsh yellow sodium light and realized he was standing in a pool of blood.

He clenched his teeth, fighting the squeamish urge to scream and dropped down immediately behind the main table. The room was empty - at least of living people. There was a few pieces laying on the floor big enough to be recognizable as to where they went before the people that went with them expired. Fortunately none of them appeared to be Zexx - yet. Zel plastered himself up against the operating table, listening for signs of life. When he was rewarded by silence he snuck carefully forward, covering at each corner and looking down each hall in a paranoid fashion.

The recovery rooms were filled with bodies. Mutiliated bodies. Bodies missing arms, eyes, big portions of their chest cavities scooped out and missing. It might have been written off as war, but a closer look told Zel that these weren't rebels or soldiers. They were the homeless in the slums, the drifters and the orphans. They weren't here because they came to die.

They were gathered up for harvest.

His heart rate spiked, frantically searching for Zexx, fearing he was dead. What he found was much worse. The Pakled was belted to a recovery bed, crudely stitched wounds showed where kidneys, spleen and other vital organs had been removed - but unlike the others Zexx was hooked up to a monitor, and there was a thin but thready pulse.

Zel: Zexx... ::He called in a thin, raspy voice::

Zexx: Rohan... is that you? ::His eyelids fluttered open and his attention riveted on Zel showing off open, bloody sockets where his eyes used to be.:: Get out of here, Rohan! Enjo's not a doctor... he's a organ seller!

Zel: ::Frantically scrambling to unbelt Zexx:: I'm getting you out of here!

Zexx: You can't... ::he coughed:: I'm missing too much. The only reason I'm still alive is that he can distill antibodies from my blood... I'll never live off life support.

::Zel bit his lower lip. This wasn't death. It was worse than death. He closed his eyes and made a decision.::

Zel: I'm sorry, Zexx. I should have never brought you here. ::He moved to one side, grabbing a hypospray and filling it with enough sedative to put an Antarean whale to sleep.::

Zexx: Not your fault. ::he coughed lightly:: I would have died one way or the other.

Zel: I'm so sorry... ::he repeated, pressing the hypospray into Zexx's arm::

::The monitors screeched a thin alarm as Zexx's heart rate and breathing slowed to a bare minimum, and Zel grabbed his disruptor pistol, darting to one side to hide behind a mangy surgical curtain, listening for the inevitable beat of footfalls.::

Enjo: ::His voice was one of shock and dismay:: no, no no! I had everything properly calibrated! This wasn't supposed to happen! ::he dashed forward checking Zexx's body, and adjusting the life support system he was hooked to:: I need you alive! I have seventeen buyers for the blood you can provide!

Zel: Seveteen buyers who can go to hell. ::His voice was thin and dark, disruptor at the ready hidden at his side.::

Enjo: ::His head snapped up and he immediately grabbed a scalpel as a weapon:: Oh, the hybrid. I was hoping you would come back. but I see you broke in rather than coming through reception. ::He narrowed his eyes:: I assume you did this?

Zel: Seemed the only decent thing to do.

Enjo: ::Advancing:: Well, I hope for you sake you're worth at least as much as he was - or I promise you that I will prolong your life only for the sheer pleasure of causing you pain.

::Zel had heard enough. Enjo launched himself at the little Cardassian, but Zel's itchy trigger finger was faster. The blast caught the Zibalian in the chest, pushing him against the back wall. He crumpled and twitched. Zel shot him a second time for good measure.

He rushed back to Zexx's side, murmuring a heartfelt apology. It shouldn't have ended like this. Zexx and Zel were running Romulan Ale, trying to make enough money to buy Zexx's sister out of indentured servitude from an Orion slavelord. It had been a series of misfortunes that had scaled far out of proportion for the sin of carrying some blue beer.::

Zel: I'm so sorry, Zexx. I promise, if I finish this job, I'll buy Mila her freedom. ::He thumbed his disruptor to the highest setting - the fastest, cleanest kill, aimed at Zexx and vaporized his partner from the pain::

::Stuffing his pockets full of shuttle parts, he ran. He regretted never looking for other survivors - or if Enjo had accomplices. He just ran, like a stupid coward, into the night. When he stopped by the edge of the woods he vomited up what little he had eaten over the last two days, before heading to their hidden shuttle to struggle through the repairs himself.

Seven months later when Mila joyously returned home, Zel couldn't look the teenage girl in the face. How could he tell her that her brother hadn't heroically died saving her from the Orion Syndicate? That he had shot him while he was strapped to a bed in a room of medical horrors?

Mila has hugged him and called him a hero. Zel had struggled with his own mind, trying to figure out whether he was a hero who made tough choices - or a monster?

What he did know, was that it started off a long and paranoid terror of doctors...::

((SB 118, Main Sickbay ))

::Zel Rohan stood at the threshold of sickbay staring at it as if it was the maw of hell itself.

He was a rather short, somewhat mangy thing. Even with two months of nutritious food and decent sleep, he still had a too-lean appearance with dark circles under his half-Cardassian eyesockets. His faintly greying hair was carefully brushed back, but refused to stay fully put in one place, and his duty uniform was stiff, a little too new and a little too starched.

But the stories were in the details. The scar that ran down his left eyeridge, the crimp in the bony ridge that ran down his right shoulder. The way he stood on the balls of his heels, tense and ready to sprint at any given second, and the wary look about him. When one of the nurses queried, he relented and walked in with a curiously cautious gait. He never turned his back to anyone for too long, and clearly scoped out the entire layout memorizing exits, exhaust vents and anything else where someone could attack from, or escape to.

Mazha, the medical secretary on duty gently queried his name and reason for coming.

Zel: Zel Rohan, new officer. ::Pause:: Here to see Dr. Liani. ::He gritted his teeth:: Might be under Rohan Marco.

::His "real" name. The one he hated. It was a little too pastoral, a little too Bajoran and and a lot not him.::

Mazha: I'll get her, please have a seat.

Zel: I'd rather not.

::Instead he stood, warily in a defensible location as if sickbay was a war zone, watching the ebb and flow of medical officers through the area.

Meanwhile Mazha approached the Andorian doctor, and offered out a PADD::

Mazha: Doctor Liani? There's a new ensign here, with orders to be medically approved for duty.

Liani: That’s pretty standard fare isn’t it? :: Liani looked up from her terminal at Mazha- as she powered down her console screen. Charlie looked up from his clear box, a half eaten terran cricket hanging haphazardly from his mouth, like a wriggling black cigar. ::

Mazha: Well... ::She paused for a moment. :: I gather he is a unique case...

Liani: Why would you say that? :: Liani stood up and accepted the PADD and ran through its contents. ::

Mazha: Well... it's on the PADD...

::The records on the PADD spanned decades, starting with an Academy entrance physical (nothing unusual about that), and hopping to routine academy check ups, and a release physical to the USS Yourke. That's where things got strange. The next time his medical records showed up it was a Federation penal colony exam, noting a variety of injuries. Then a report from Gateway Station 2, with a laundry list of issues after treating an unconscious Zel who helped them uncover a slaving operation. He refused treatment of most of it. There were a smattering of other records, spotty at best, and the most recent one: treated for dehydration, malnutrition, plasma burns, broken ribs, concussion and disruptor shots to non vital areas after smuggling himself onto SB118 in a silk crate.

It also, incidentally listed a whole host of interesting factoids, such as a smashed neck ridge indicative of Bajoran torture techniques, a mishealed broken leg making his left leg 1.2 cm shorter than his right one, several masses of scar tissue, a steel slug that was never removed, a missing earlobe, and a few more random untended injuries.::

:: Liani read through the PADD at first giving everything a cursory glance, and then re-read it to make sure she had read it right the first time- finally a third pass through had confirmed that the first two tries through the errata proved that she was reading something along the lines of ‘Confessions of a Survivor’- it had an almost surreal quality to it- like someone who fancied holovids and old time noire had given some poor character life and slipped them into a Starfleet uniform to see what would happen. All that was missing were low lights and the hint of soft jazz in the background. She looked up from the PADD and glanced at Mazha, her antena bending down in a quizzical sort of way. ::

Liani: Where is this, :: a pause ::, Zel Rohan?

Mazha: Over there. ::She pointed out the wary little hybrid, who looked like he was debating just making a run for it.::

:: Liani nodded and gave Charlie the simple signal that had him scurrying up her arm and resting on her shoulder- the cricket still sitting disjointed from his mouth. Liani fancied Charlie as quite the partner in crime in most ways- but wished that’d he’d not be so keen on playing with his food. ::

Liani: Thank you Mazha- I’ll take care of it. :: With PADD in hand Liani made her way to her to the funny little man- so keen on running but stuck with her. She decided to play it carefully as she approached. ::

Zel: You must be Dr. Liani.

Liani: And you must be Ensign Zel? :: She gave the man a polite nod, her antenna following suit. ::

Zel: Yeah, I'm Zel. ::He waited. Her move.::

Liani: It’s not too late to run you know- though that does mean I’d have to shoot you with a tranquilizer and drag you into the back rooms. Or you can follow me now and save us both the headache- which would you prefer?

Charlie :Chr. :: Charlie gave Zel a sage nod of his head while swallowing the rest of his cricket in one go. One stray leg hanging from his teeth like an obscene toothpick.

::Zel flinched, the sort of choppy movement one makes when they’re ready to pull a weapon and stop just before doing so. Not because there was a lack of a weapon around - Zel could and would find a way to make anything he got his hands on into a weapon for self defense - but because he forced himself not to. Eyes narrowing at the doctor, he sized her and her demonic creature up.::

Zel: I doubt you have better aim than an Alcarian assassin. ::Jaw set, as if to say ‘your joke was not funny’ without actually being a spoilsport about it.:: Where are you… we… going?

::Because escape routes were important.::

Liani: Not very far actually- one room over. :: She gestured with her head for him to follow and lead the way through and open corridor to Sickbay 1a, gesturing to the biobed closest to the exit and the best view of the room and outer area of the main sickbay- good clean views all around:: Take a seat if you like and we’ll get started.

::He followed in his calculated walk, gazing at the doctors, the nurses, the other patients. It was bright in here. Bright and sterile and Starfleet. That should have made him feel better.

But they didn’t call irrational fears irrational for no reason. Especially when they were rooted in very rational and valid reasons.::

Zel: I’d rather stand. ::But he followed. That was a near miracle prompted by two months of food, sleep and not being shot at. A decided improvement from the screaming, hitting people with med tray antics of his last visit with a doctor in a Starfleet uniform:: What’s next?

Liani: Well, I’d ask if you need a drink- and then we can get down to the business at hand in getting you cleared for duty. :: A pause:: So, do you need a drink? :: She asked in her soft Andorian voice. ::

Zel: I don’t drink before doing anything stupid, dangerous or debilitating. I prefer to save that for afterwards.

Liani: Well then, after we handle this potentially stupid, dangerous and debilitating affair, you’ll join me for a drink?

Zel: ::He eyed her. Did a doctor just ask him for a drink?:: Are you serious?

Liani: Always- but I’ll let you think about it. :: She studied the PADD again and set it down on a tray. :: I’m going to need to run a series of scans using a medical tricorder, nothing invasive- may I? :: She asked one hand resting on the tricorder but not picking it up. ::

::He gave a wary pause, considering::

Zel: No sedatives, no tranquilizers, no… well, things that probably aren’t legal in Starfleet. ::Pause, he realized he hadn’t answered the question:: Yes, tricorders are ok.

:: Liani nodded and picked up the medical tricorder in a smooth, practiced motion. She considered the readout screen for a moment, before making adjustments to the sensor’s frequency- adjusting the device to allow for a bit more distance than was standard practice. It would have been easier to leave it as it was- but she felt if distance and clear motion were the better choice in this situation. With the scanner ready she began the readings- keeping herself and the reader roughly three feet from the new ensign. ::

Liani: Are any of your old injuries causing you physical discomfort? :: She asked in a casual voice as she ran the scans. ::

::That was a very good question, one that prompted Zel to lift his gaze up slightly. He had an admittedly high pain threshold, tuned by years of ignoring discomfort to focus on what was actually going to kill him.

But the truth was many things bothered him - in the way that he had started to notice them once the basic needs of life were answered.::

Zel: Maybe. ::It was hard to tell if he was being evasive or honest::

Liani: Could you clarify, please? :: She asked eyes only barely looking up from the tricorder’s readout. ::

Zel: :: He was, in fact, the sort that if continually - and gently - pressed would volunteer some information it seemed:: Ok, I admit, I’d like it if my shoulder didn’t hurt.

Liani: Could you describe the pain your shoulder gives you? Maybe when and how do you feel it most? :: She moved the scanners direction from roughly his head to the chest area- the narrow beam forced by the distance made for slower scanning- but it was still effective for her purpose. ::

Zel: Hm. ::He said as if thinking it through, even though he wasn’t:: Sharp radiating pain from where the ridge is cracked. Usually when reaching or carrying something heavier than a Moban watersack.

Liani: When you were first admitted into this facility did the doctor or doctors who saw you offer you any treatment alternatives? :: She let the scanner point towards the cracked ridge and follow along the course of his shoulder. ::

Zel: The demon? No. I sort of insinuated I might dropkick him and he ran away… ::cough:: besides, I was sort of in jail.

Liani: I see… :: a small pause:: Well, it can be repaired- along with several other issues- such as the metal slug you’ve gotten blessed with. :: another small pause:: nothing that I’ve seen would require anything like invasive surgery- your organs are all fit, if that was a concern- :: a mildly distracted moment as she considers the screen, and then she looks up:: Would you like details, or would you prefer the devil you know to the one you don’t?

Zel:I like to know all the stipulations of my contract before I sign it. ::something he had learned along a long and winding road.::

Liani: Understandable, and smart. :: She closed the tricorder after transmitting the data collected to the PADD. :: Well let’s take small steps then. :: She leaned against the biobed and gestures towards the old injury. :: The crack is actually showing signs of growing worse judging from the readings taken two months ago to the information I have now. It will, in time impact your ability to use that arm at all- along with potentially aggravating damage sustained by your neck bones rendering you unable to have full motion of your neck and head.. :: A small pause to let the information sink in and then Liani continues. :: The surgery to repair the damage is not complicated- and the description and mental image is worse than the actuality of it. If you chose to go forward with the surgery, I could use neural blockers which would allow you to remain fully awake and aware during the procedure- yet would be sufficient to keep you from feeling the pain that would accompany my rebreaking the ridge- after which I would use a standard regenerator to bring your shoulder and neck into full health- almost as if you never bore the scars of that event

:: Liani talks quickly, but smoothly- her hands gesturing in quick but smooth motions as she explains each step of the procedure to Zel. ::

Zel: ::He took a step back, considering it. That was his right arm, his phase pistol arm, the one that let him fly a suicide run at top speed and shoot a charging Vanna beast between the eyes mid-lope. He hated doctors, but he needed that arm to function properly, and a bunch of maquis reborn had tried their best to take it from him. He tightened his lower jaw:: I need to be able to move. ::truth. One didn’t survive as long as Zel had without being able to move. He had adapted to most every injury -adapted or healed. But this simply hadn’t gone away.::

Liani: Very true- but I can’t, nor would I, force you to undergo the surgery needed to repair it. That decision firmly rests on you. :: Liani said the words clearly, her voice had a soft, almost kind edge to it as she spoke- and her face remained true to it’s Andorian roots- and was a neutral mask. ::

Zel: ::Zel frowned. She had offered a solution that fit his idiosyncrasies. And he needed it done. He didn’t like it - maybe he didn’t have to like it.:: I don’t like it… but it needs to be done.

Liani: :: Nodding her head. :: Okay then, I wasn’t lying when I said it would be a simple procedure- but I’ll need you lying down on that biobed. :: A small pause :: I’ll walk you through each of the steps before I perform them, and then it’ll be done and we can sign you off as ready, well mostly ready- to go to your duty post.

Zel: Yippee ::Said in the least overjoyed voice possible. It wasn’t sarcastic, more the tone of someone who was walking on an electrified tightrope and wasn’t very happy about it. Then again he kept reminding himself that Starfleet had creature comforts and the freedom of the open skies afforded very little of that. He leapt up to the biobed height in a startlingly fast movement:: Do it now before I change my mind.

Liani: Understood- Charlie- go back to your nest. :: Charlie let out a small chr sound and scampered from Liani’s shoulder to her desk in the other room. Liani meanwhile set about setting up the tools she’d need for this procedure- when the tray was complete she moved it towards Zel’s biobed and showed the man the small metal disk she held in her hand.:: I am going to attach this to the left side of your neck, just below your ear- it will in simple terms, render you numb to any discomfort while providing readings to the computer. May I place it now?

Zel: ::Tension flooded his limbs:: Yeah

Liani::: Nodding, she placed the device and powered it on- slow currents ran through Zel’s body- at that point she could have cut off one of his fingers and he’d never have known unless he looked down, or wondered at the maniacal laughter coming from her lips- but that didn’t happen- instead Liani moved to the biobeds computer terminal and said in her same soft voice. :: Next, I’m going to need to render a limited forcefield over your right shoulder and arm- I have to do this to keep them perfectly still for the procedure- may I do this please. :: She asked in her calm voice. ::

Zel: ::His heart rate spiked for a few seconds, indicating a strong awareness of everything that could go wrong with something like this in the wrong hands:: … ::swallow:: … ::pause:: … ::stall:: … yes.

Liani:Thank you, Zel. :: A few taps on the screen and a force field formed around Zel’s upper shoulder and right arm, effectively pinning him to the table. Liani took a moment to monitor the screen’s information output before picking up the small black box on the stand, she held it clearly in Zel’s view for him to see. :: This is the tool that will reopen the break in your bone- and allow me to knit it back together properly- restoring full use. It emits a limited tractor beam- it will sound horrible- and for that I appologize- may I go forward with the procedure?

::The little hybrid’s eyes widened. It already sounded horrible. What the crimelords of Miranda VII could do with that thing he didn’t even want to contemplate.::

Zel: ::he closed his lips and made a vaguely strangled sound accompanied by a nod that was the clearest form of yes he could manage. Twenty years of paranoid fought against the simple fact that Starfleet didn’t torture its own people in the broad light of day surrounded by a whole bunch of other Starfleet:: Mmhmm--- ::He wanted to screw his eyes closed. It would have been the sane thing to do. But a drifter didn’t live for as long as he had by not watching what was going on around him. He had trained himself to look, forced himself to look in some cases, until it was programmed into him.::

Liani: Thank you, Zel- this will be over very quickly. :: Setting the box in position, Liani carefully put the controlled beams to use- the sound of the bone breaking was clearly audible in the sickbay- Liani leaned over the prone Zel, her eyes making contact with his for a moment- :: That’s done- it all gets a lot easier on you now. :: She looked into his eyes to make sure he was still with her and not somewhere else::

::And this was why stabilizer fields were made. His heart rate spiked to the top of the charts when the first break was made, muscles twitch and pulling at the restrained. The rational part of his brain said this was a good thing because it was preventing further damage from an already damaged area.

The lizard part of his brain was going through a series of PTSD flashbacks. Sickbay? Or the cells on Moserin IV? Or the back alleys of Lavenza where the gangs played ‘break ball’ a game where civilians were the targets and smashing them to bits was the goal.

The rational part of his brain kindly reminded him that this was exactly why he had accepted his unusual commission. To get out of places like that.::

Zel: ::Green eyes slowly focused on the Doctor. He never once closed them longer than a blink, but at times they were clouded. He was vaguely impressed that she waited until he was in recognition that yes, they were still in Starfleet before finishing the bone breaking procedure. If he had been feeling pain he would have felt that was unusually cruel. But the whole thing was curiously pain free, meaning it was a psychological run around. When the crushing came to a stop, he asked in the most cautious of voices:: Is that over?

Liani: Right now I’m using a regenerator on the bone- we’re almost there Zel- almost- :: She looked at the screen as she worked :: And done- I’m going to lower the forcefield now, and remove the device from your neck. Please don’t rip it off Zel- it needs to be done correctly- or there could be complications. :: That part had not been true per se, but she was hoping his survival instincts would keep him from doing anything rash now that he was no longer pinned down. She carefully removed the disk from his neck and showed it to him and set it down on the tray.:: I’d be very appreciative if you could just stay lying down for a moment while I run a quick scan- plus if you stood up now you’d just fall over, so why risk it? :: That was mostly true- Zel’s legs probably felt like so much mud. ::

::It was a good point to make, since Zel’s usual reaction to freedom was to bolt as far away from whatever restrained him as possible. Instead he gripped the edges of the biobed and forced himself to stay still. It was like a test of courage, one of those things that Starfleet makes you go through to ensure you can toe the line - or at least do things the way they want you to do them. The irony of ‘this was a good thing’ was not lost on him. He was trying very hard to get used to good things rather than being wholly paranoid every time the replicator materialized a meal for him.::

Zel: I see. ::He could come up with a whole bunch of colorful answers to ‘why risk it?’ but that would be better talked about over drinks.::

:: Liani ran the scans, looking over the freshly regenerated bones and tendons connecting the hybrid’s neck. She gave a firm nod. ::

Liani: Well whatever [...] did that to you- his work’s been undone. Can I help you sit up, Zel? :: She offered the Ensign her arm to brace himself on. ::

Zel: ::He eyed her cautiously. Help was one of those curious concepts that was not foreign to him, but also wasn’t frequent. Then again she did offer to go out for drinks and that was street speak for ‘I’m not going to kill you (or at least not yet).’:: Sure ::It might have been the wariest sure possible, but it was an offer nonetheless.::

:: Liani picked up the original PADD and updated Zel’s notes, putting down her signature approving him for active duty. ::

Liani: You’re approved for active duty, Ensign Zel. Thank you for allowing me to help you.

Zel: ::He [...]ed his head a little bit, watching her every movement keenly:: I thought the thanks were supposed to go the other way around. ::Pause. He admitted she wasn’t the first decent doctor he had met - just one of a tiny handful in comparison to bad experiences.:: Anyways… ::It was like ‘thanks’ but muted.::

Liani: You’ve experienced several injuries, and while none are currently as debilitating as your shoulder was- they could, if left untreated, lead to complications further down the line. :: She held up a hand as if to calm any protests. :: None of them need immediate attention- but I would like you to consider the option of receiving proper medical attention. I won’t force you to- but I would be appreciative if you allowed me to help you- always at your discretion.

Zel: ::He shrugged:: Some of those I’ve had for decades. ::Were they longtime friends or neverending enemies? Or just reminders of a life gone by?:: I’ll… think on it. ::pause:: Is there more?

Liani: No, that was it Ensign Zel- you have about a half hour to think about my original offer though.

Zel: Half an hour? ::he perked the unscarred brow ridge:: What blows up then?

Liani- That’s when I’m off duty, Ensign Zel- I’ll be at the Garden, a little Terran bar, if you care to join me there. Otherwise, good luck in your duties on this Starbase.

::Zel nodded slowly. He knew it. Then again, with the decreased restrictions of movement he had made an effort to explore and memorize every square inch of the station. Old habits died hard, and that was one habit that he found useful no matter what the situation or the job was.::

:: Liani gave the older man a small smile and tilt of her antenna and made her way back to her desk to work on the problem of weaponized tribbles- someone had meant to cause more than a bit of mischief with them and she hoped to find their signature in the tangled weave of their genetic coding. ::

---

PNPC Probationary Ensign Zel Rohan

Yet to be assigned

StarBase 118 Ops

Simmed by: Sal Taybrim

&

Dr. Liani h'Rhendria lyr'Theel'zhiin

Medical Offer

Starbase 118-OPS

A239201L1

Edited by Trellis Vondaryan
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