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Ensign Tzim-Shah - Here for you

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This one is so tender and exquisite from @Alieth NPC Shah, the Tellarite security officer. 



((Sickbay Complex, Deck 10, USS Ronin))


There was only one thing worse than engineers, as every decent person knew. Well, perhaps not worse, but at least AS bad as engineers. And Shav was well aware that those were, of course, doctors.

And he had had a fair share of both (leaving aside his parents, his twelve sisters and his grandmother) mused the Tellarite to himself as he spread and clenched the mechanical fingers of his left hand. He felt them, but not for the neurotransmitters hardwired into the stump of what had been his arm, but for the thing that once had been. A phantom pain that had never completely disappeared and which neither engineers nor doctors had ever managed to eliminate.

And now he was going to go deep into his lair. Headlong, once again, into the sickbay. By his grandmother's beard, had he gone mad on the freighter? Quite possible, given the insanity they'd been through. What he meant was... Jump into space? Float there in the great blackness waiting to be picked up or suffocate to death if neither the arachnoids nor the Ronin scooped him up? Which transitory insanity had taken hold of him?

These words were whirling around in his head as the door of the sickbay opened before him, and he scurried about trying to pass unnoticed among the myriad of doctors, nurses and assistants who looked like ants swarming from place to place all over the deck. Some gave him a curious glance, and that was only natural: in that sea of pristine blue, which reeked of antiseptics and chemicals, he was the only solid touch of gold. And the most heavily armed.

Well, at least they couldn't complain about that, since most of them had Type 1s hanging from their hips. Even more! He'd had a shower. He wanted to get the gore they'd seen on the freighter out of his skin. Granted, it hadn't been directly all over him, but... he still felt dirty.

He slipped past one of the wards, where another pair of golden notes pulled him to a halt for a second. The new guy and the Romulan with the weird grin, along with one of the foul-mouthed women (the most sardonic of them) and Mr. Moustache-now-in-the-new-flavour-without-a-tache. They all seemed very VERY VERY focused on some other kid with slanted eyebrows, who was nibbling on something... twisted. A candy of some type? Maybe, if you were permissive enough to consider something that smelled like the concentrated juice of 10 lemons that had been left to macerate inside a lime and grapefruit soup a " candy". Shah scrunched up his nose and resumed his trot around the infirmary, moving away from the sour smell that assaulted his delicate nostrils.

Finally, he got to where he wanted to go. His steps became slower, more cautious. Not because there was no one else besides the patient, but because of... everything. Osiris had always seemed larger than life, blustering, loud when he wanted to be, silent when he didn't. Some brains glued to the oversized mass of muscle that made up most of the Worene.

Now he seemed... Tzim-Shah didn't know how to put it. Undersized, lying in the biobed. Delicate, perhaps, the lustrous black fur matted and dishevelled.






The Tellarite slowed down. He was unconsciously concerned that the sound of the hooves in his boots would wake him, even though the beeping of the biobed echoed louder than his footsteps. When he got a little closer, he slung his rifle off his shoulder, and laid it on a chair nearby. It seemed out of place, but it told him something: that he hadn't been the only one with the same idea he had in mind, as if somebody had been keeping vigil until a short time ago, just waiting for someone else to replace them.

With his weapon secured to the backrest, Shah slumped back in his chair and let out a tired grunt. The kind that says it's been a long day, and he's getting too old for all that crap.

Tzim-Shah : Hey jumbo cat, how's it going?

Osiris, of course, did not respond, his breathing steady and slow, asleep or unconscious.

The biobed let out a beep.

Shav leaned forward and folded his hands. He averted his gaze from his fallen companion, and looked at the blueshirts milling around the boy on the other side of the infirmary.

Tzim-Shah : Me? Here? Well, you know. You're not exactly doing a good job, so I came to lend you a hand. :: wiggling his mechanical fingers:: Come on, that one always used to amuse you.

The huge felinoid kept breathing, slowly, eyelids closed, whiskers hanging down on the sides of his strong muzzle.

Tzim-Shah : Well, I don't know, the Bosswoman is busy, and someone has to be around to make sure that the quacks don't shoot themselves in the foot if they get nervous.

The biobed whistles once again. A routine examination had been completed and was shown in a hologram on the side of the device. Shav was familiar with about 25% of the words it displayed, but if he had to bet latinium he'd go that the cat was... stable. No better, no worse.

Just... just the very same. Just the same.

The Tellarite chewed his upper lip with his broken fang until he knew it left a mark.

Then, he leaned back and rested against the back of the seat, brushing the fingers of his left hand through his beard.

Tzim-Shah : Damn it, Cat, I'm here to see if .... WHEN you wake up. We need you. Who's going to bring Breeze to his knees if you're not around?

An inspiration. A beep. An exhalation.

No better, no worse, just the same.

Shav sighed. He blinked a couple of times, as his pale eyes had blurred a bit, and then... he smiled.

Tzim-Shah : Can you believe it? The kid almost blew up the deck while we were out there. Well, he or Mr. Moustache-now-in-the-new-flavour-without-a-tache. I think when the Bossgirl finds out, she's going to pop an artery.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, conspiratorially approaching one of the Worene's hairy ears.

Tzim-Shah : You see, it all began when...




Ensign Tzim-Shah

Security Guard

USS Ronin USS-34523




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