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PNPC Nurse H8 Blue - Activate ball mode

Sal Taybrim

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((Starbase 118, commercial sector))


::She was finally on an adventure, her second day in Starfleet and already an adventure. Just like she’d always imagined it would be. Nothing could stop her now, nothing but a certain pink hued targ. As she made her way through the ordered streets of Starbase 118, she idly considered if she’d get a medal for her efforts. At the very least a commendation. As images of a giant awards ceremony flashed through her mind, the excitable nurse rounded a corner slightly too quickly and she upended herself. The tricorder flew out of her hand and Hattie found herself spinning along the sidewalk on the back of her shell, only to come to a very sudden stop as she slammed into a firm pair of legs. Her legs flailed slightly, like an upside-down tortoise as she looked up in horror at the very large marine she’d collided with.::


oO Oh no. Oo


Kro: ::Holding a hand up toward Gazkra:: It's alright.


Hattie: I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Oh god, I’m such an idiot!


::She rolled herself over onto her belly before pushing herself back up to her hind legs, her antennae curled almost entirely around her head in shame. ::


Kro: I'm pretty sure I'll recover.


Gazkra: You'd better. Or I'm telling Doctor Ezo what you put me up to. ::The Betazoid could be a bit of a terror; Gaz could respect that.::


Hattie: I-I just needed to be fast, in case it got away. I’m really sorry.


::She slowly picked up the battered tricorder from the ground, tears began to well up in her eyes when she realised the already battered device had given its final bleep. She’d really made a mess of things now. Did this count as dereliction of duty? She’d lost all the data! And charged head first into a pair of marines! They could court martial her for that, couldn’t they?::


Kro: ::Putting a comforting hand to her shoulder.:: There there, nothing that cant be repaired.


::Hattie stared up at them, even on her hind legs she was completely dwarfed by most humanoids, these two even more so. It was taking almost all of her concentration not to curl up into a ball and roll away. Then, another thought came to her. Maybe they could help.::


Hattie: ::In a tiny voice:: Are-are you Klingon?


Gazkra: ::curtly:: Half.


Hattie: ::She swallowed, not sure if what she was about to say could be considered xenophobic:: Does that, ::She coughed and raised her voice to a slightly more audible squeak:: does that mean you know how to catch targs?


Kro: ::Eyes widening:: Did you say targs?!


::She visibly shrank backwards, antennae curling and exoskeletal plates bunching up in fear. Her and her big mouth::


Hattie: ::In a panicked yelp:: Sorry! I-I… I didn’t m-mean it in a bad way, just…


Kro: No no, you misunderstand. You see we're looking for a targ as well. I don't suppose the one you are hunting is...::An awkward question every time.:: Pink?


::Her antennae perked up and her eyes glittered in the freshly renewed excitement.::


Hattie: It is! ::Her already fast speaking pace seemed to accelerate with each word:: I was meant to be doing the inventory on one of the medical store-room, and then I found something had destroyed all the supplies, so I tried to figure out what happened, and then I noticed a tuft of pink fur, so I put it under the tricorder and found out it was targ, and because I really need to make a good impression for when Doctor Ezo comes back, I thought I’d… ::She stopped to take a long overdue breath, then her face fell.:: Sorry… I-I tend to babble when excited…


Kro: ::Looking to Gazkra:: What are the chances?


Gazkra: ::shrugs:: It's a big station


Kro: Alright, well our trail has ended. Did you see it near here? Or have some idea where it is going? You were in an awful hurry....


Hattie: I do! I worked out how to track it on my tricorder! Let me show you… ::Suddenly remembering  the black, cracked screen her face fell.:: Oh…


::Hattie gave it one more hopeful prod with her claw, eliciting a long and static-ridden warble which slowly faded into silence. The death throes of a tricorder had never sounded so sad before.::


Hattie: ::Staring at the floor:: Sorry…


Kro/Gazkra: ?


Rozera: =/\= Rozera to Kro! Target in sight, sector 52-D. I’m in pursuit. Can you cut her off at the intersection to sector 53? =/\=


::The combadges’ chirp was accompanied by a sharp, excited intake of breath from Hattie. Maybe this would work out after all.::


Kro: =/\= Your sure?! =/\=


Rozera: =/\=  Affirmative, bacon is on the grill. =/\= ::The sound of her knuckles popping made it over the communicator.::=/\=  And the grill is hot. =/\=


Kro: oO I like her Oo =/\= Understood. Keep the tongs ready!. =/\=


Gazkra: Sir, after this you owe me bacon. ::she rubbed at her sore arm again.:: At least.


Kro: ::A wry smile:: You might be right about that.


::Hattie looked between the pair of them, her confusion evident.::


Hattie: Bacon? ::Other than it was apparently grilled, Hattie had no idea what bacon was meant to be, or symbolised.::


Gazkra: Targ first, stories later. ::And alcohol, if she had anything to say about it.::


Kro: Right, lets move!


Gazkra: ?


::Hattie dropped to the ground and began to scuttle quickly along behind them, she could have gone faster, but the new nurse still had no idea where they were actually going::


Kro: Stand aside! Marine business!


Gazkra: ?


::The group of cadets had only just began to reform as Hattie scuttled past, trying not to upend any of them, they didn’t look nearly as sturdy as the large marine had been.::


Hattie: Sorry!  ::She called out as she emerged from the crowd::


Kro: Which way is 53-D?!


Gazkra: ?


::She turned suddenly to follow in the new direction, her claws skidding across the floor for purchase, though this time she managed to remain on all 8 limbs, and then she spotted it. That had to be it, bright pink, small, and apparently being attacked by someone wielding a, what did they call them? Tennis rackets? Hattie put on a burst of speed, attempting to make up for the lost ground when she’d turned the corner.::


Hattie: There it is!


Gazkra/Pran/Rozera: ?


::She watched in part terror, part fascination as the large marine fumbled, sending the targ soaring into the air. She knew exactly what to do, without thinking Hattie surged forwards, putting on even more speed and readying her limbs to jump. This is exactly what they’d do in her adventure stories, it’d be perfect.::


Kro: Catch that Targ!!


Hattie: I’ve got it!


::Unfortunately for Kro, he was in the excitable crustaceans path. She sped along the ground, then onto Kro, and then jumped off him and into the air. Any potential social problems this might cause had long been forgotten.::


::Hattie’s tail and cyan tassles that constituted a uniform billowed out in cape-like fashion as she sailed through the air, all limbs extended, towards the tumbling targ. Her form about as majestic as an un-shapely brick in freefall.::


oOJust a little bit closer, closer, there!Oo

Gazkra/Pran/Rozera: ?


::Hattie grabbed the targs tail with one pincer, pulled it closer to her body and then curled into a ball, the audacious animal safely tucked inside the Nasat’s defensive shell as they hit the ground and rolled for several metres before coming to an abrupt stop on a street lamp.::


::It was at this point that Hattie realised what a bad idea it was to restrain a struggling targ mere centimetres away from her face. It’s claws were sharp. Hattie let out a loud yelp and unfurled from her ball-state, ending up on her back holding the unhappy creature aloft and trying to turn her head away from its claws.::


Hattie: Help! Someone! Please! ::She called, and then felt a very welcome sensation as the beast was lifted out of her grasp by someone. She let out a long sigh and a quiet:: Thank you. ::as a small trickle of purple blood dripped down her face from the unprotected flesh around her eye.::


::It was then that Hattie realised she’d just used a superior officer, a marine no less, as a springboard, after already coming close to bowling him over. Mortified, she did the only thing that made sense, curled back up into a ball and hoped nobody would notice her. She was going to be court martialed for sure.::


Gazkra/Pran/Rozera: ?



Crewman H8 Blue


Starbase 118 Operations


As simmed by:


Ensign Phrik, MD

Medical Officer

Starbase 118 Ops


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