PNPC Ensign Rachel Flores - Yeah, This Is a Good Idea

[Jalana]

((Bridge - Deck A, The Good Ship Lollipop))

((Time Index: The 27th Century))

Rachel always found herself nodding off since her head injury. Especially bad as first officer of the Lollipop. She sat up in her chair on the bridge, looking around. How had she fallen asleep on the bridge? She looked over at Captain Rex McMillan. Glad to see him alive again after his dying on the Forthwith. And now in command of the Lollipop. It was a good ship. She turned to the panel off to her left side to get a status update. Which was difficult, the text seemed to change to gibberish every time she tried to focus on it and read it.

McMillan: Uniform inspections! Everyone line up.

She looked up from her control panel in confusion.

Flores: Uniform inspections?

Captain McMillan glared at her as the rest of the bridge crew stood up. He was a gruff captain. How she ended up going from chief engineer to first officer still mystified her. She felt like an imposter on the bridge.

McMillan: Of course, Commander Flores. What kind of first officer forgets about the uniform inspections? ::To the assembled bridge crew:: Everybody, line up!

If she had remembered she really would have put a bit more effort into her appearance. Rex was going to find so much to criticize her over.

Flores: oO Why did I forget about uniform inspections, I should have shined my boots. Oo

Rachel stood up and went to one end of the line, dreading when he came to her. Captain McMillan started with the Betazoid chief science officer. His uniform was spotless, as usual.

McMillan: Very good.

Next up, a Caitian comms officer. How did she never have any fur on her uniform? She had to have a lint roller stowed away beneath the communications console. It was the only explanation for how she always did so well.

McMillan: Nice work.

The chief tactical officer was up next. He put them all to shame.

McMillan: Mirror polish on your boots, ensign. Excellent work.

Then it was her turn.

McMillan: Commander Flores, you’re in the wrong uniform. You’re out of date.

She looked down at herself and realized that it was indeed the wrong uniform. Everyone else’s silver metallic-looking fabric uniform with division color piping on the cuffs looked the same. Not her. She was wearing her old blue jumpsuit with yellow colored stripes on the shoulders like some kind of primitive astronaut from a time before gravity plating and good food in space. A visual marker that she did not belong.

Flores: Oh! Well, I…

The captain scrutinized her further as she spoke, looking alarmed.

McMillan: And your teeth, half of them have fallen out! Get to sickbay.

Flores: They’re what?!

Rachel turned to a console and shut off the display. In her reflection she could see half of her teeth missing and others starting to fall out. How had she missed it?

Flores: ::Meekly:: Yes captain.

She was confused. The uniform, the teeth, the feeling of being out of place. Why did everything bad happen to her? She left the line of officers and made the walk of shame across the bridge to the turbolift to report to sickbay.

 

((Primary Sickbay - Deck F, The Good Ship Lollipop))

Their CMO, a Klingon transfer officer still in full Klingon uniform, was waiting for her. When she entered sickbay, Rachel immediately got an ugly look from the doctor. She sat down on a biobed and waited for Doctor G’Renn to approach.

G’Renn: And what are you here for this time? Another accident you got yourself into?

Flores: My… teeth.

Another annoyed huff came from the doctor, disappointed in her propensity for getting injured.

G’Renn: Right. I see you’re out of uniform again. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel… always out of time.

Always out of time. Why did this always happen to her? She was a good person. She didn’t deserve to get zapped around time and space by the vengeful universe. It wasn’t fair that she was out of time. And she didn’t need to constantly be reminded of it and punished because of it. She didn’t choose to have this happen, short of not killing the future Starfleet away team that tried to send them to the future.

She sighed and tried to push back on the doctor’s criticism.

Flores: I don’t think that’s entirely fair. I’m trying my best. But adapting fully to this new time takes time. Plus I’ve been under some other stress lately.

G’Renn: Yes, that number you did to your head. What were you thinking?

Of course the doctor wanted to chastise her about that. As if she hadn’t heard enough about it and been reminded of it by everyone at any opportunity, or that every day brought fresh reminders that she’d done possibly irreversible damage to her head. It hardly seemed relevant to her current issue.

Flores: ::Mumbled:: I wasn’t. But I really don’t appreciate- Ow!

Rachel flinched, feeling a fresh pinch of pain.

Flores: Can we just focus on fixing my teeth?

G’Renn: Of course. I think that the easiest treatment would be to simply remove the affected area. You don’t really need your jaw. You stay here and I’ll go get the medical bat’leth.

Rachel’s eyes widened in horror. Remove her jaw? Medical bat’leth? As soon as G’Renn had moved off to go grab the aforementioned tool, Rachel got up from the biobed and made a cautious but rapid advance towards the exit. She walked backward, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to stop her from leaving sickbay.

Flores: You know, I really don’t think that’s a good idea!

The Klingon doctor called out from the medical armory with an order.

G’Renn: Nonsense! Sit back down, I’ll be right with you.

Flores: Yes, but I really should be going back to work…

She passed by someone else standing by the sickbay door. It was one of the servers from the Saloon back on the Conny. Dressed like an old west cowgirl and carrying a tray of plates and hyposprays. As Rachel tried to back out of sickbay, the server chimed in with her own suggestion.

Server: Of course, but first you need to wake up.

That made sense, it was a good- wait a second, what was a server from the bar doing in sickbay? And wake up from what? She looked back at her in confusion.

Flores: What do you mean?

Server: Rachel, wake up!

 

((The Saloon - Deck 10, USS Constitution-B))

((Time Index: Day after the mission - 1300 Hours))

Rachel woke up with a start. She wasn’t stranded in yet another time that wasn't her own, about to have her jaw removed. She was at the bar in the Saloon, face planted on the counter.

Her dreams had been so vivid since she had suffered her head injury. Vivid but nonsensical. And sometimes terrifying. What did it mean… and the nodding off in public. That was a problem too. Especially if she wanted to get back into her usual duties in engineering. The chief was never around. But she knew that the one time she napped on top of one of the warp core power transfer conduits would be the one time the chief would show up.

Server: Rachel, you need to wake up. ::Pause:: Are you alright?

Obviously she had fallen asleep. So obviously she said:

Flores: Sorry, did I nod off?

Server: Yeah, about twenty minutes ago. I was going to leave you in peace, but you seemed like you were having a nightmare or something.

She nodded.

Flores: Thanks.

The waitress left to serve other customers while Rachel tried to regain her composure. It was awkward, falling asleep at the bar. She was sure that talk of her condition had started to spread throughout the ship. Still, some might assume she was either working herself to exhaustion or quite possibly very drunk. She was distracted from her worries by a flashing indicator on her PADD. A message.

=/\= Private Message =/\=

To: Ensign Rachel Flores & Lieutenant JG Ellie Park

From: Lieutenant JG Lystra 

Pleaaaaaaaase tell me you both saw T’Aven’s shipwide?

If you haven’t, buggy race. On the demon planet. We can have up to three people. Soooooo, who’s with me? The three of us on a buggy would be badass, dangerous and nigh unstoppable!!!

I’ve been stuck in Sickbay for almost thirty hours. Pleaaaaasee say yes!!

Lystra

P.S. Since this is a normal race and not holo training for an insane mission I’m guessing the buggies won't have phaser cannons. So I call dibs on driving. 

=/\= End Private Message  =/\=

 

That sounded like a great bit of escapism. Rachel immediately started writing up a reply.

 

=/\= Private Message =/\=

To: Lieutenant JG Lystra & Lieutenant JG Ellie Park

From: Ensign Rachel Flores

Absolutely! I am so with you. You should definitely drive. You or Ellie. I for one wish to live long and prosper. So I will not be driving. I’ll handle any phaser cannon installation, though. I can probably manage that.

Assuming I can remember to show up.

- Rachel

=/\= End Private Message  =/\=

 

Rachel was excited to do something fun rather than simply sulking in her quarters with engineering 101 flashcards to help retrain her brain. Leave it to Lystra to help get her out of the dumps. Her Boslic best friend had been a constant presence by her bed in sickbay. Although she hadn’t reached out to her in the weeks following. And Doctor Park would be there too, just in case. Although she had learned one important lesson from the hoverboard incident. Wear. A. Helmet.

The waitress stopped back by with a slice of pecan pie. Either something she thought of on her own or a directive from Kincaid. Regardless, she smiled and started to dig in.
 

 

Ensign Rachel Flores
Engineering Officer
USS Constitution-B

===as simmed by===

Lieutenant Commander Laria Herren
Mission Specialist/Second Officer
USS Constitution-B
A239402AG0