USS Orpheus
Aelle
Member
CHAPTER 1
Part of the Crew, Part of the Ship
Part 1 – The USS Orpheus
Admiral Beckett’s orders were crystal clear, however muddied the waters were with pretense and posturing. Head out in to the Archanis sector’s furthest backwaters and support the scattered colonies there by assisting in re-establishing their economy and trade networks and, if begrudgingly needed, engage the Hunter enemy in combat and present a show of force on the part of Starfleet. With an Argonaut-class vessel, calling their presence a ‘show of force’ would be like calling a single rocket a firework show.
None of it mattered to Commander Muhammad al-Haajid at that exact moment though. All that he cared for at that particular point in time was finally coming face-to-face with his new ship and his new crew, his first assignment as a commanding officer of a Starfleet vessel.
He stepped through the busy Ops center at the heart of Starbase 27, shifting and weaving through herds of flummoxed officers scrambling to organize the operation in the sector, his eyes locked on a single point. For before him and behind the busied administration stood a grand vista of Federation design, portrayed through an immense window of almost incalculable scale. Through it, the entirety of the Spacedock-class’ eponymous interior bay could be seen in all of it’s overwhelming scale and glory.
Ships were shifting this way and that behind the glass, the amber glow of their maneuvering thrusters shining through the brilliant artificial blue light of the dock. For a short period, much of the dock was occluded by the incredible sight of an Odyssey-class vessel, not three kilometers ahead of al-Haajid, moving gracefully towards the gates to leave upon its storied journey across the galaxy, like a whale majestically cruising on its great migration around the world.
As the stern of the secondary hull was passing in to view, and the blinding luminosity of the ship’s nacelles began to penetrate the glass and illuminate the entire operations section in a wash of luminous blue, the Commander approached the edge of the viewing railings in anticipation, enjoying the beauty of the moment but eager for it to pass as he shielded his eyes from the glare.
As the ship passed from view with an undoubtedly tremendous roar (the glass was entirely soundproofed for obvious reasons), a long-awaited sight and a life-defining moment had come upon Muhammad.
In that place, just across from Ops and held firm with docking clamps, was a freshly refurbished and smaller yet no less graceful and impressive Argonaut-class vessel, in all three-hundred-and-eighty-six meters of its dignified presence. The bay’s many activities cast their lights upon its saucer section, and the emblazoned name of the USS ORPHEUS, NCC-80556 shone for all to see.
There it was, the Orpheus, al-Haajid’s home and future, his responsibility and his pride, encapsulated both figuratively and physically within its Duranium-alloy hull. It was relatively small and dated compared to a number of other vessels awaiting departure around the interior of Starbase 27, but it mattered not. Al-Haajid was pleased with this aspect of his assignment, and was anxious and excited to board and be ready to be ahead on his way.
He took a few minutes just to admire the starship at a distance, smiling as he thought of all the possibilities it meant for him. The chance to visit new worlds never before seen by the Federation, to host and greet new lifeforms and new cultures, and engage in those cultures on the surfaces of their planets. In their cities, in their fields, in their villages, in their homes.
At last, with a content sigh, he pushed himself away from the railings and headed back towards the main operations area. From within his uniform jacket, he pulled out a PADD and began to read through it once again. It had been updated thanks to one of Beckett’s aides (and doubtfully with little, if any, thanks being owed to the man himself) to include information on the Orpheus’ specifications and more importantly, the ship’s senior staff roster.
The corridors and turbolifts of Starbase 27 were traversed in an absent autopilot as Muhammad headed across the winding walkways of the Stardock-class station, his eyes darting back and forth across his PADD as he inspected every important minutia of detail regarding his ship and its crew.
“USS Orpheus,’ he began reading aloud to himself, ‘NCC-80556, Argonaut-class Light Cruiser. Currently undergoing fifth refit cycle. Current crew compliment: 194. Resupply Interval: 1 Year-“
“One year?’ He said aloud to himself with a look of confusion and disappointment on his face. ‘Sounds like we’ll be puddle jumping our way across the quadrant-“
“-It’s not so bad, sir.” a voice suddenly piped in beside him.
Taken by surprise, al-Haajid’s head swiftly shot to his right. Before him was a face he had glanced at just moments prior in his crew manifest, and now here she was, in the flesh, talking and walking with him.
She was a Denobulan woman, of fairly equal height to him (he being only around 5 foot and 6 inches tall), and of a heavier build. Her face possessed qualities of both warmth and resolution, as did the tone of her voice, which was raspy and deep but upbeat and enthusiastic.
“Lieutenant Tenka, was it?” Muhammad replied after a moment’s silence.
“Yes sir. I’ll be your Chief Tactical Officer once we head out. Don’t worry, sir, I’m not one of those trigger-happy nutters who jumps the gun and starts throwing phasers and death threats at the first sign of Tal Shiar. No sir, I’m quite serious about going the whole way!”
“Is that so?” al-Haajid replied nonchalantly. In truth, he knew a reply was far from necessary. The young woman was walking with such an vigorous stride that he was almost having to jog to keep up with her, and he knew that had he remained silent, she would’ve undoubtedly continued to talk at length regardless. He really didn’t mind though. In truth, he liked it. It was always a privilege to have one so young, bold, and full of life on the bridge.
Space could be a cold, cynical, and unforgiving place. If someone can be that light in the dark for her crew and her ship, then in those moments when all hope seems lost and all is smothered in doubt and defeat, it could be her time to shine the brightest. With a warm and genuine smile on his face, he let her continue.
“Yep! I told my boyfriend and girlfriend back on Dalvos Prime not to wait for me to get married- Uh, if they wanted to, obviously! I told them I was gonna be out here for years, sir! I told them ‘space is my life, and if either one of you feel like you need to go your own way, then don’t you worry! Starfleet’ll be one of my spouses- Oh!” She suddenly caught herself.
“I’m so sorry sir, I talk-… way too much! I promise I’ll keep the chitchat to a minimum on duty! Uh-” Tenka blurted out, covering her mouth, though her beaming blue eyes conveyed the obvious embarrassment of making what she perceived to be a terrible first impression on her captain.
Al-Haajid simply continued to offer her a warm smile before turning his head forward once again.
“Well, here we are.” He gestured, raising his hand to indicate the door in front of them.
They had reached the jetway that connected Starbase 27 to the docked and clamped Orpheus. Tenka remained silent, seemingly too embarrassed to speak.
Tapping a panel attached to the bulkhead door, it opened with a hiss, and the Commander, now finding himself having to grow accustomed to the address of ‘Captain’, turned to face the young Denobulan.
Simply offering a hand to her, which she accepted cautiously, he shook it firmly and simply added “It was wonderful to meet you finally, Lieutenant Tenka.” before raising his other hand once more, motioning her to go ahead of him on the long approach to their ship.
Comments
Part 2 – Captain on the Bridge
The captain and Tenka had gone their separate ways upon boarding the vessel. She, with her personal items and packed luggage slung over her shoulder, had headed to her assigned quarters to drop off her affects before she made her way to her new post at tactical.
Al-Haajid had gone ahead and was already making his way through the corridors to the bridge. His own belongings had been brought aboard and left for him in his personal quarters, or so he was told by one of the administrative staff back on the station.
The sight of his crew all around him, debating ship functions with one another and exchanging PADDs as he passed, occasionally breaking away to offer a formal greeting and an offering of “Captain!”, filled him with an indescribable energy and exuberance, fueled by the comforting hum of the ship’s systems operating all about him, an almost living creature he was now within.
He stepped in to the turbolift, but not before being joined by a young ensign in red command colors.
“Bridge.” The young man commanded, looking up as if addressing the lift itself. The device complied, and its doors closed before it began to move.
“Captain al-Haajid, I presume?” He suddenly asked, beating Muhammad to the punch.
“Correct, ensign. And you are?”
“Oh- Zhihao sir. Zhang Zhihao. I’m the Chief Conn Officer.” The young man replied.
“That was my first posting,’ Al-Haajid responded with a slight grin, ‘I hope you’re ready to fly with the best, ensign. I was top of my class back in ’86. I even made squadron leader.”
Zhihao looked unmoved, and a cocky grin spread across his face.
“Something you want to say, ensign? Speak freely.” Al-Haajid added suddenly and sternly.
Zhang’s expression changed to one of nervous discomfort.
“With all due respect, sir, there’s more to flight than what the academy teaches. Back on Thanatos VII, me and my dad used to run the Kadepa 500, and we’d even win it!”
“The Kadepa 500? That’s a…. shuttle-rally, isn’t it?” al-Haajid responded, concerned.
“Yes sir. It’s dangerous, I know but… if you wanna really learn how to fly with the greats, you run the Kadepa.”
“Dangerous!?’ Muhammad interrupted, ‘they use bloody impulse engines on the freaking surface, ensign! You’re talking about hitting the light barrier with an audience thirty feet below you!”
“I know, sir. I’m not saying it’d be smart to do that with a Federation starship-“ Zhang began.
“-it’s not smart to do that with some tricked-out shuttlepod, either!” Muhammed blurted out once more.
Ensign Zhihao straightened up as the turbolift came to a slow stop before addressing his captain.
“Sir. I served on the Nairobi for two years as a conn officer. You have my word; I won’t do anything that’d jeopardize this ship or her crew.”
“No fancy tricks?” The captained asked quickly.
“No fancy tricks, sir.”
“Good. I’d like to make it back in one piece, Ensign. I can’t watch your dad’s qualifying runs if I’m splattered across some asteroid now, can I?” al-Haajid grinned.
“Sir.” Was about all Zhihao could get out with a massive grin before turning to leave the turbolift as it approached its stop.
The doors opened, revealing the bridge of the Orpheus. It was surprisingly spacious for a vessel of its size and class, and was well lit. In front of a series of consoles set behind a curved railing were two seats, both of which were clearly well-crafted with polished black leathers, and sported a small console on each arm.
All around the enclaved rear wall were various different consoles for different stations, and each was seeing heavy use, with an officer behind all of them working furiously.
In front of the captain and first officer’s chairs, the bridge seemed to narrow to a smooth point, with a curved view screen which illuminated heavily the two helm stations at the fore of the deck. The design of the bridge came together to form an almost arrowhead-like shape.
“Where the hell have you been, ensign!?” a sharp and terrifying voice suddenly belted across the room towards Zhang as he left the turbolift for his station.
Though al-Haajid had apparently slipped her glance, Ensign Zhihao froze in place, looking back towards the source of the voice, stunned. Across the bridge from him stood an irate-looking Andorian woman. She was exceptionally tall, having almost an extra foot in height on the Captain. Her body was toned and slender, with her long sky-blue fingers balled in each hand, forming two aggravated fists. Her two antennae twisted and gestured furiously atop her head, pointing this way and that defiantly from above her long, curling alabaster hair, which was shaved around the sides and back and swept stylishly to the left.
“Uh! I was just-“ Zhihao began.
“-This had better be a damn good just, ensign! You’re fifteen minutes late!” She yelled again.
“I was just meeting with the Captain, sir!” he blurted out suddenly.
The Andorian’s eyes widened, her head jerking suddenly towards the older Iraqi man who had just entered the bridge with the young ensign.
“What the—Nobody bloody told me the Captain was on board! Evanson, why the hell didn’t you tell me!?” She continued to holler, her voice not dropping a single decibel.
“With all due respect, I’m not a fucking alarm clock, sir! I’m busy!” a Welsh man’s voice suddenly retaliated from behind the operations console.
“How dare you speak to me like that, lieutenant! When the captain arrives on deck, it is your job to say ‘Captain on the bridge’! Don’t you give me that attitude with your-” The Andorian continued.
Al-Haajid cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the tirade and with a clear intent to garner attention.
“You two,’ he began calmly, pointing to the Andorian woman and the Welsh man sequentially, ‘my ready room, this instant.”
The captain then led the way in to a small room just to the side of the main area of the bridge. Its doors hissed open and he entered, followed by the two considerably taller officers, the Andorian of which nearly scraped her antennae across the frame.
The three of them entered a surprisingly barren room. Save for two chairs and a rather sophisticated looking curved desk, the space was practically spartan in its appearance. The smallest of the three officers, the captain, span on his heel suddenly, facing his two subordinates.
“What the hell was that all about!?” He shouted, rhetorically.
The other human and the Andorian woman both remained silent, straightening up a measure and swallowing, clearly showing discomfort at being chastised in their first meeting with their captain.
“As you can see, this room’s pretty empty right now. That’s because I hadn’t planned on using it the moment I stepped onto the bridge! Explain yourselves, go on!”
Al-Haajid swung his arm up, gesticulating firmly and furiously as he spoke.
“I apologize sir, it won’t happen again. We just wanted to make sure everything was ready to go when you got here. The Orpheus’ refitting has been rather, uh… rushed, shall we say. It’s been difficult getting everything brought up to standard.” The other human, dressed in the yellow colors of the operations department, responded.
Muhammad paused for a moment, considering his apology and seemingly ignoring the Andorian, who remained silent.
“You’re lieutenant Evanson, right? Chief operations officer?” He asked him in a calmer tone.
“Yessir. Dafydd Evanson, lieutenant junior grade.” The tall Welshman responded.
Al-Haajid paused again. The silence seemed raise a great deal of awkward tension between the three, a purpose deliberately served.
“What’s our status, lieutenant? How fit are we to fly?”
Seemingly thrown off by the innocuous question, and the conversational shift in to territory he was far more comfortable with, Evanson’s jaw slacked in to a gormless expression of confusion before he quickly brought himself around.
“Well sir, deuterium tanks are at full capacity and fully contained. The navigational array turned up accurate close and long-range telemetry in every test. Thrusters are operational, impulse drive is fully functioning, warp engines are reading nominal, replicators are functioning as normal, and that little light that comes on in the toilet when you wake up for a late-night piss at 0200 hours is suitably blinding.” He read off the PADD he’d had clutched under his arm, before crossing them as he reached the last item.
Al-Haajid smirked, amused.
“Very good, lieutenant. Back to it, if you please and-‘, he paused, flinching his head ‘don’t let me hear you talking back that way to any officer on this ship, Mr. Evanson, superior or subordinate. Is that understood?”
“Uh, yes sir.” Evanson nodded back, turning to leave as the doors to the bridge hissed open and closed again. The captain strolled casually to the rather simple-looking swivel-chair behind the desk. He slumped in to it casually before gesturing to the one across from him.
“Take a seat.” He began. The Andorian woman, who had been silent and still the whole time and whose face still carried a semblance of irritation and frustration, followed instruction and sat herself down. Her antennae seemed to be turning cautiously in random directions again.
Muhammad picked up a PADD from his desk and tapped the screen a couple of times before starting to read aloud.
“Lieutenant Commander Thy’tera Veliss,’ he began, ‘Chief Security Officer aboard the USS Marseille, eight years’ service. Chief Operations Officer on the USS Müller, three years’ service. And now this is your first assignment as an executive officer, your first time in a chair of your own, hmm?”
“That’s right, Captain, but I fail to see what this has-“
“And you think this is acceptable behavior from a senior officer, Ms. Veliss?” al-Haajid interrupted, leaning back on his chair and casually swiveling it and rocking it back and forth as he spoke, his right leg crossed over his left as his eyes locked on hers.
“Sir?” She responded.
“I’ve sat where you’re sitting now, Commander. I served as first officer on the USS Tokyo, a Manticore-class heavy escort on the edge of Cardassian space. At any given time, I was responsible for the lives of over two-hundred-and-fifty people. It was my job to be a leader in their eyes, and see them through ship-to-ship combat that’d make even your blood freeze over. It was my job to see to it that the will of my captain was enacted, even if I disagreed with her decisions. I was an advisor, a warrior, and a commander, and I put on a brave and calm face when needed, even if, inside, I wanted to shoot everyone and everything in a fifty-foot radius with a phaser set to vaporize if it meant getting a moment’s peace. That was my job as a first officer, Ms. Veliss, and now it is yours and I will tell you that for all that the first officer’s chair is incredibly comfortable, it can be the worst seat in the house sometimes. Now, I need to know that I can rely on you when the chips are down, so to speak. I need to know that your advice is sincere and in the best interests of this ship and all those that serve aboard it, even those you can’t personally stand. I need to know that when I make my intentions clear, you carry them out and see them made manifest. I need to know that when I’m left, lost and dying on a barren planet in the middle of uncharted space, that I can rest peacefully, relieved of all conscious burden knowing that the Orpheus and her crew are in the safe and capable hands of a woman I trust. Can you be that woman, Commander Veliss?”
Veliss felt emboldened by these words, and a renewed sense of duty seemed to fall upon her. She sat up straight and looked her captain dead in the eye.
“I am that woman, Captain al-Haajid. I let my frustrations and anger get the best of me and I lost myself in the minutia of unimportant detail. I’m sorry, and I’ll accept the responsibility for what I said, but I want to do right by everyone on this ship. Zhihao, Evanson, you, everyone.”
“Very good, Commander. I’m glad my feelings about you were not misplaced, now le-“
At that moment, everything aboard the Orpheus seemed to instantaneously shut down. The lights in the ready room shut off, leaving it almost pitch black save for the dim blue glow of the Starbase outside the window. Al-Haajid and Veliss suddenly found themselves floating from their seats for a moment towards the ceiling, and the air became deathly cold very quickly. Then, as swiftly as this disorientating experience began, it ended with a rising hum of systems sequentially coming back online. The two senior officers suddenly found themselves slamming on to the desk with a grunt and yell.
Veliss pulled herself up enough to tap her badge.
“Veliss to Morat. What was that!?” she asked, assertively but clearly more emotionally in control compared to her prior outburst.
“Sorry about that, Commander! We’re trying to work out a few tweaks in the EPS grid and, well, it went a bit, uh…. Wrong.” A man’s voice responded, sheepishly.
“Wrong? Wrong how!?” Veliss responded.
“I’d better head down there. Please stand by.” Al-Haajid added, straightening himself up once more and brushing off his uniform.
“Well, Commander. I know we’re not flying anywhere just yet but… you have the bridge. Time to see if we’ll be moving at all this month.” He nodded at Veliss, stepping out of his ready room in a hurry.
Part 3 – Engineering
The bay doors to Engineering pneumatically slid open to reveal a room in utter disarray. All about the Captain, officers in yellow-trimmed shirts were rushing about, calling to each other and throwing Data PADDs across the department. Jefferies tubes were open, with engineers laying on their backs, zapping and yanking at bio-neural fiber cabling and passing gel packs to one another.
Al-Haajid had barely had time to take in all of the chaos surrounding him when a Xindi-Primate male with shock-stiffened hair and a face dirtied by chemicals and residue came towards him holding a PADD. Three of the five strands of his forward-growing hair upon his receded scalp were facing forward and up, creating the perfect image of absolute fluster and chaos.
“Captain!’ he began, ‘Lieutenant Morat, Chief Engineering Officer! Y-you really didn’t need to come down here, you know.”
“No, clearly not.” Al-Haajid sarcastically replied, his eyes continuing to survey the chaos that was his engineering department.
“I thought these Argonaut ships were easy to maintain? What the blazes is all this going on here?”
“Well, with everything going on with the Archanis operation n’ all that, I guess the station’s repair and refit teams have been a little understaffed and overworked. My team has been trying to pick up the slack on our own but making headway has been difficult when you’re thrown into it like we’ve been. Don’t worry though Captain, we’ll be fit to fly within the next few hours. Just… trust me! I’ll get this all taken care of.” Morat responded, quickly tapping and approving a few new modifications on his PADD.
“That’s a fool’s wager, trusting him.” A somewhat nasal voice suddenly butted in from above.
Al-Haajid and Morat both looked up to see a short Ferengi in a yellow Starfleet uniform with a hyperspanner in hand, attempting to repair some sort of component which he had set down on the railing of the passageway above.
Morat sighed, gesturing above him.
“Captain, I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Gwarn, my… assistant chief.” He motioned.
Gwarn hissed a little under his beath.
“The only reason you’re the chief in the first place is because Starfleet still can’t get over their racial hang-ups about the Ferengi. If Starfleet Command weren’t a bunch of racists Morat, you know I’d hold that position!”
“Yeah, keep at it Gwarn. The only reason you’re not chief engineer is because of your little diatribes like that! Maybe if you gassed less and worked more, you’d be getting somewhere.” Morat retorted.
“What!? I already fixed the damn Dilithium converter and the EPS couplings for sections C through E! What the hell more do you want from me!?”
The Xindi shook his head at this before turning back to the captain.
“Lieutenant, I’ve already had to pull up two of my officers for not playing nice. Do I really need to do the same in as many minutes?” al-Haajid asked authoritatively.
“No, Captain. Gwarn likes to run his mouth but he gets the job done and that’s all I need. We’ll get this ship running like a well-oiled before the day’s through, you have my word.” He responded in a slightly hushed tone.
Gwarn hmphed to himself above, clearly overhearing.
“While you’re here though, fancy getting your hands dirty? I could use an extra pair to get this multiphasic stabilizer calibrated. Unless of course you plan on playing the riskiest game of time travel roulette ever when we jump to maximum warp.” Morat grinned, tapping his PADD a few more times.
“Well, I guess if I’m going to be captaining this ship, I’d better know her ins and outs. Mr Morat, I am at your disposal.” al-Haajid responded with a somewhat sarcastic bow.
In truth, al-Haajid relished the opportunity to be a hands-on captain and assist the engineering team with getting the Orpheas ready to fly. Sadly though, his own knowledge of engineering was somewhat limited. Of course, he had passed his engineering tests at Starfleet Academy, and had had a little training around a hyperspanner. Truth be told, though, al-Haajid was no engineer, and this was certainly outside of his comfort zone, just the way he liked it.
Morat beckoned the man over to an open panel on the wall sitting just behind the warp core. Al-Haajid looked up at the great central tube of the room as he passed it. Even at low power and with all the disorder surrounding him, the impressive presence of the ship’s warp core had a warming, empowering, calming effect upon any who beheld it. It seemed to hum, or almost purr, in a docile manner as the radiating energies that flowed within it swirled and reshaped themselves in ever more intricate ways.
Once they came to the panel, the Xindi grasped at a handle from within the hatch and with a strenuous pull, slid out a large array built to be the same shape and dimensions as the hole from which it was pulled, but long to a degree of about 4 feet, fully drawn. Now that it was out in the open though, al-Haajid got a perfect snapshot of the ship he was commanding. A core-sample from the walls of his new home, pulled out and revealed to him, for the array was brimming with cabling and slap-dashed with bioneural gel packs and technical readout panels all about it. The machine looked like an utter puzzle, one that could take years to work out if left alone with it.
“Right then,’ Morat began, ‘we’ll need to reroute the secondary coupling through the fluctuate bypass. You know, I don’t know why they don’t just make these damn things for specific ships. They just replicate a new one and shove it in and go ‘there you are! You’re a Galaxy-class size, right?’ Wrong! I swear…”
Morat continued to groan to himself for a good while longer whilst working feverishly against the vibrant, almost blinding neon blue light coming off of the array.
“Okay captain, we’re ready start the calibration. See that lever sitting flush with the frame? I need you to start pushing it slowly to the right. When I say stop, you stop. Got it?”
Al-Haajid nodded. Looking down at the device, he indeed spotted what looked like a T-shaped lever sitting impressed upon the array’s outer shell, surrounded by shimmering blue cabling. He placed both hands upon the top of it, and began pushing the piston beneath it into the device itself. The machine suddenly began to make an ascending whir, heightening in pitch in unison with the lever’s motion. Morat’s eyes were locked on his PADD, only averting them occasionally to check on the readout from the array itself.
“10.4…. 10.43…. 10.45…. We’re getting there Captain-“ he said enthusiastically before there was a sudden flash and cracking sound filling the air, blinding and deafening the two.
The Captain recoiled with a yelp of pain. His hand was burnt significantly, and he cradled it whilst trying to maintain his composure and breath.
“The secondary coupler must’ve overloaded, Captain! I’m so sorry! Here, I’ll get someone else to help me finish up here. You get yourself to sickbay immediately!” Morat said rather feverishly, looking over the Captain’s hand and then back at the multiphasic array.
Gwarn tutted from above, rolling his eyes and walking away with his own PADD in his hand.
Part 4 – I’m a Doctor, Not a Dealmaker
Thankfully for the captain, the Orpheus’ comparatively compact size for a ship of her class meant it wasn’t too much of a sprint from engineering to sick bay (and at this point, al-Haajid wondered if it wasn’t a purposeful design feature) and the man, still cradling his burnt and slightly bloody hand and running, made it there rather swiftly if a little winded due to shock and the short sprint.
As he entered, he was immediately greeted by a nurse, a human man who jumped to his feet having recognized al-Haajid’s face from a prior briefing and the sudden and panicked entry to which he had been greeted with, and quickly brought him over in to the main bay to take a look at the burn.
“Looks pretty severe, captain. Let me grab a hypospray for the pain and a dermal regenerator-“ the nurse began but quickly stopped in his tracks.
“That won’t be necessary, nurse Choi,’ a beautiful young Bolian woman in a blue sciences uniform hidden beneath a long white lab coat interjected ‘This one’s my patient now.”
Nurse Choi simply nodded and headed back out front. The Bolian turned to look at the captain with a flirtatious half-smile.
“Well, well. I wondered when you’d come running in to my arms, captain al-Haajid.’ She smirked, ‘Doctor Zodian, chief medical officer.”
Without another word and with a sudden swing of her arm, like an assassin moving to make a kill, she jabbed al-Haajid’s neck with a hypospray and injected something with a hiss, all in a fraction of a moment.
“A little something for the pain. Now, it’s time to take care of that hand of yours. A simple dermal regeneration should do the trick.”
“Nurse Choi was already heading to do that. Why should the captain be given special treatment, hmm?” the man asked with a grin, playing along with the doctor’s flirtation.
“Because this chief medical officer hadn’t had a chance to meet the brave captain of her intrepid voyage yet. Now, don’t you go anywhere, flyboy. I’ll be back in two shakes of a Garsnik’s tail.”
And with that, the Bolian turned to leave, her lab coat waving airily in motion as she headed to get her equipment.
“She’s like that with everyone.” A voice suddenly spoke out from behind the captain.
Al-Haajid craned his head to see behind him a Trill woman sitting on the edge of the bed.
She seemed relaxed, almost nonchalantly so, and had a slight air of aggression or irritability about her. She was well-built, with shaved, short hair that showed off the leopard-like spots running across her scalp.
There was no time for any other exchanges between the two before the clicking of heeled feet on the flooring echoed through the room and the doctor returned, once again employing a cat-like reflex to gently but with an alarming agility take al-Haajid’s hand and begin running an instrument along it.
As she did so, the pink light emanating from the device seemed to slowly rebuild his burnt flesh before his very eyes. The black and red damage of the wound seemed to recede like a wave, leaving dry the golden tan of his skin once more.
“Thank you, doctor.” He nodded, twisting and turning his hand as if trying to ensure it was still indeed his once the rather effortless procedure was completed.
“Don’t even mention it captain. You can call me anytime.” Zodian winked, walking away with an elegant stride.
“Not the most conventional bedside manner I’ve ever seen, but she gets the job done.” The Trill once again added.
Al-Haajid hopped to his feet to face her.
Placing her arms on the side of the bedframe, she pushed herself off onto her own two feet.
“Lieutenant Commander Nadri Vol, chief of security. Captain al-Haajid, I presume?” the woman asked.
He simply nodded before she continued.
“You’re probably gonna need me more often on the ground than up here Captain. You might get the odd scuffle here and there but with a crew of 194, I doubt it’s not anything my officers can’t handle. Down there though, brokering deals in the Archanis sector with freelance traders, haulers, Klingons, and goodness knows what else, you’re gonna need someone watching your back at all times.”
“And I’m assuming you have some past experience in this, hmm? Or at least your symbiont does?” al-Haajid asked.
“Oh, I don’t have a symbiont sir. My family have a few hereditary congenital issues that make us unsuitable candidates. No sir, you’ll never meet a joined Vol. Pretty common actually for Trill to not have symbionts. Only one in a thousand are ever selected for it. They’re the ones that usually ace the Starfleet exams though. Kinda helps running through it all when you wrote the damn tests three hosts back and did them all seven times. Still, I’m cool with not being joined. Means I can carve out a name for myself as myself, if you get me? I don’t gotta worry about being another faceless name attached to some legacy.”
The captain had nothing really to add to this remark. There was certainly something respectable and stoic in Nadri’s opinion, or perhaps that stoicism was born purely out of her personality. Time indeed would tell if such a person truly could remain as stoic in the face of true danger.
“Well, commander Vol, I have absolute confidence in your abilities to see that this ship and her crew are well protected and kept in-line. No doubt I’ll be coming to rely on those abilities sooner rather than later.” He finally replied to her.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, sir.” She returned.
With a respectful nod to each other, al-Haajid head back out of sick bay. He flexed and rolled his wrist and fingers whilst looking down at his hand, which was utterly without mark or mar and showed no sign of trauma. The miracles of modern medicine never ceased to astound him.