Star Trek RPG - Mission #6: "Marala"

The examination table's vital-signs monitor shows that Rangin's blood oxygenation has improved almost immediately, but he remains pale and his pulse is still thready. He does not wake up. Dr. T'Var looks at her new colleague expectantly. Bennett is aware in one corner of his mind that the doors have opened again and a stocky older woman in Command gold has entered Sickbay.

Suddenly the ground is immediately beneath Kylah, yellow-brown prairie grass like a thick, gently-waving carpet below. She manages a not-ungraceful tuck and roll and is down.

Graham also pulls it off and then finds his footing. Looking up, he sees Xiang, then Johnson, and then Pru come down, each several hundred yards away downrange. Johnson tries to land on his feet and stumbles badly, the Security officer can see.

"Welcome to Beta Antares IV, planetside," Pru says over the common channel, chipper as ever. "Everybody OK?"

"I... I think I may've sprained my ankle," Johnson says, sounding pained and a little embarrassed.

dp

Each breath strains Kylah's knotted muscles as she gets to her feet, wobbly but still able to focus on pulling at her gloves to free her hands. She pivots until she spots the others' landing locations. Then she must squint to identify first Mr. Graham--at least, a shape that looks like his, which means he is safe; she might be angry at him but she is still relieved--and then Pru, last to the ground.

Determined, she launches herself in that direction, forgetting about the large parachute behind her until the weight of it stops her still-unsteady gait in her tracks. A stream of curses floods her mind while she tugs and scrabbles at her suit where it joins with her helmet--if successful in removing the latter, she will toss it to the grass before next attacking the suit itself. Her rising temper and distress are not making this easy.

Pru's question causes another burst of anger--the levity in their guide's voice makes Kylah's stomach roil.

"No," she says in a voice etched with acid, "everyone is patently not 'okay.' There is one fewer person on the ground than when we jumped!"

She yanks viciously at the straps connecting her to the parachute lines and drags them along with her, energy surging her tiny body's strength while she again heads toward Pru. Despite her clumsy, slow stomping, without a thought she manages to draw upon the royal attitude befitting her upbringing and family.

"Your perfect safety record failed you. Failed him. This must have been a suit malfunction--he was in good health, I know he was! If it was your fault, if anything happened to my--to my crewmate--"

Kylah swallows back a sob. Along with the tears and sweat, she can taste the blood from her lip, still bleeding where she bit it earlier. Somehow she manages to keep her tone steady and righteous when she continues. "No matter what waiver we signed, I swear your company will be held responsible. You will pay!"

Graham's relieved to be on the ground, and likewise relieved that Kylah seems to be fine...

Until she launches into a wholly unexpected tirade. It's impressive in its own way...

But he can't figure out what might have triggered this...or not any good reason, anyway...

"Uh, I'm sure Yorktown will get to the bottom of whatever happened," he interjects over the comm. "I'm sure with the company's cooperation," he adds.

He clears his throat. "Perhaps it's best if we return to the ship."

Nathaniel frowns as he notes that Rangin isn’t improving as quickly as he’d hopes. As he considers his next move, T’Var stares at him. The door slides open and the woman that Nathaniel knows as the Captain of the Yorktown strides into the room. He hadn’t met her, but he’d done enough reasearch on the crew to be familiar with it’s officers. He wonders what she is doing here. Is it about his patient or something else?

Pru seems taken aback by Kylah's words, but responds to both her and Graham. "Well, sure, yes, of course. We don't want anything to go wrong for any of our clients. We'll certainly do everything we can to figure out what happened." She clears her throat and says, a bit more confidently, "Assemble on me, everyone, please. If any of you wish to return to the Yorktown directly, please remove your divesuits and leave them here with me; your ship can beam you up. Anyone who wants to return to Holloway Station, you can beam back up with me." Graham and Kylah see the others begin gathering up their 'chutes and walking towards Pru, several hundred yards away.

Bennett is correct; it is indeed Captain Singh. She crosses her arms, stands along the bulkhead but says nothing.

"The patient, Doctor...?" T'Var says quietly.

Kylah's face burns at Mr. Graham's suggestion, followed swiftly by Pru's less-than-satisfying remarks. She stops stalking toward the guide and, after slamming the helmet to the grass, makes a renewed effort to remove the dive suit. The attempt is not helped by the material's weight or her own emotions, which make her movements jerky and awkward while she tries to find a way out of the bloody thing.

Wriggling free at last, she steps out and nearly kicks the suit in vengeance for seemingly holding her captive. Then she yanks at the parachute lines. She resents having to do this much--to clean up for a company that has made such a crisis occur.

She sees Mr. Graham approaching and, stuffing the whole package of suit and parachute and helmet into her arms, sends a wounded glare toward him. The helmet is so ungainly to hold onto--particularly along with the rest of the crumpled, bulky kit--she is forced to keep it in place with her chin in order to see her colleague.

"Oh, Mr. Graham, now I may return to the ship?" she yells, not using the comm unit but her own voice sharpened by worry and outrage, before turning her back on him and again stomping forward in Pru's direction. "Thank you, I am so grateful for your permission!"

Kylah tries a quick pace, since she senses Mr. Graham will catch up with her soon and she prefers to avoid him... but her legs are short and she is hampered by her inability to see the ground beneath the helmet and bundled apparatus/suit in her arms.

Of course she nearly stumbles, because she is ever conspired against by the whole universe including her own foolish feet, but she hurries nonetheless.

Graham's not really sure what's going on (beyond "Kylah's really pissed"...or something).

He's inclined to lag behind and give her some space until she seems to stumble, at which point he lurches forward, extending an arm...

"Hey, ah...look, just be careful..." he says quietly, intended for only her ears if possible.

Not concerned (for the moment) with why the Captain was here, Nathaniel keeps his focus on his patient.

"We need to get his heart rate going." Nathaniel says to T'Var. "Get me Norepinephrine, he should respond to that."

With a twist of her waist, Kylah slips her elbow out of Mr. Graham's reach. "Do not touch me!" She flicks a fiery glance at him before continuing. "How gladly you render help when you choose to. Not when I asked for it, not when I needed it! Well, I do not require assistance now."

She moves unsteadily but as quickly as possible until she reaches near enough to Pru, wherever she can drop her burden to the ground in a heap. Kylah's gasps of effort prevent her from delivering any further threats to the skydiving company guide, but at least she can stare witheringly at the older woman while grabbing her communicator.

"Ensign Kylah to Yorktown," she manages once the device has flipped open. "O-one to beam up." Please hurry, please...

Pru does not make eye contact with Kylah but accepts the divesuit and other gear from her. Mahmoud says he'll be beaming back to the station, as will the civilian, but the others all say they wish to go directly to the Yorktown. Kylah is in the first group beamed back up. Just before the transporter effect takes them, Johnson says quietly to her, "Thanks for letting her have it, Ensign. It had to be said, and I'm glad somebody did." Upon rematerializing, he adds, "I need to have my ankle looked at. Want to come to Sickbay with me and check on Mr. Rangin?"

T'Var inserts an ampoule into the hypospray, and hands it to Bennett. "Norepinephrine, Doctor - specifically, Cardistim." Bennett, of course, recognizes the trade name of Starfleet's standard-issue heart stimulant, which is mostly norepinephrine but also includes several other beneficial organic chemicals.

Graham's taken aback--literally, as well as figuratively, as he takes a step backwards from Kylah--by her response.

Which help when...oh god, OCIII...

Feeling hollow, he clears his throat and approaches Pru. "I'm sure someone from the Yorktown will be in touch once the medical team figures out what happened with Ens. Rangin." He manages to make it more than a glum mumble.

"I'd best get back myself."

If not otherwise interrupted, he gets out of his suit and steps away.

After a moment, rather than contacting Yorktown, he tries something else.

"Graham to Onn."

dp

Nia, head propped up by her right hand with her elbow on the grass, carefully turns a page of Booker's gift, the ancient Earth novel, which itself is lying on the bag from the bookstore to protect it from the damp.

The damp is no problem for her. Her pores have opened to the dew, having naturally evolved to absorb any external water, and her skin feels delightfully soft and plump.

But she's wearing a frown, because the story text itself is frustrating. "...Their gaze ran over Spade's body from shoulders to knees, and up again to settle on the... " Nia scowls at what comes next, then whispers to herself: "Hand--ker--chief." She purses her lips dubiously. From the context it seems to be an item of clothing. And it's obviously for the hands, so it must be something like a glove? But why just one?

Truth is, Nia's not bad at reading Fed Standard. Still, most of her focus has been on nav tech, ship diagnostics and, to a much lesser degree, medical terms. One problem is that a lot of the written language seems to be spelled nothing like it's pronounced. Worse, this book's from the early 20th century, and while some of the slang's familiar--at least she can thank that ridiculous Sigma Iotia II society for something other than near death--a lot's totally foreign to her.

She skips the clothing mystery, but the next part isn't much better. What the hell? 'Gunsel?' Why's he calling the kid a... weapon, I guess? The context isn't any help. This Sam Spade character hardly seems the type to be so creeped out by a gun of any kind.

Nia exhales in confusion, uncertain if this author just made up words as he went along. It wouldn't be the first time she came across a writer who did that sort of thing. Andy Johnson once gleefully teased her by sending her a poem by... what was the name, Carol Louis?... well, someone from his Terran homeland that she's certain was utter gibberish.

A chirp by her thigh gives her a welcome interruption--even more welcome when she hears Booker's familiar voice. Tucking the book back into its bag, Nia deftly rolls over and gets to her feet so she can walk far enough away to avoid waking Luisa.

Pausing under a tree, she lifts her communicator. "Finally," she says with a sideways smile. "Got my message, did you? Little disappointed you're just hailing me. I figured you'd race to my side... or whatever angle you prefer. Where are you?"

Kylah has just a second to process what Mr. Johnson has said to her before she feels the transporter take hold and beam her off this planet on which she spent less than ten minutes. She is still staring agape at her fellow officer when they reappear on the Yorktown. The thought that began far from the ship now completes itself:

Why--he thinks I did the right thing. He is not angry or judging.

When Johnson speaks again, she has to shake her head to recover from this unexpected gift of support. "Yes. Yes, I would very much like to go, thank you. I am sorry I did not think to wait for you... I should have. I remember hearing that you were hurt."

Kylah thanks whoever the transporter engineer is, not really paying attention as she is focusing half on Johnson, with the rest of her mind somewhere in Sickbay. She swallows and awkwardly offers her arm. "If you need assistance, please let me help." Then she adds in a heartfelt murmur, "And thank you, Mr. Johnson. I did not expect anyone to agree with me. People rarely do."

Pru, Mahmoud and the civilian soon have the divesuits, parachutes and other gear gathered up and ready to beam back to the Holloway space station.

Aboard the Yorktown, Mr. Nguyen is behind the transporter console, and nods to Kylah.

Johnson smiles thinly, obviously in some pain, and says, "I think I can hobble along, but if you'd walk next to me in case I need to grab you, I'd appreciate it."

The other skydivers disperse from the transporter room with murmured farewells to the pair. Park says, "I have to do something, but I'll be down to check on Mr. Rangin in a minute."

In Sickbay, the doors open again and a short, wiry Latino-looking man in Engineering red with the golden stripe-and-a-half of a lieutenant commander on his cuffs enters. He sees the Captain and walks over to her.

"Uh, missing you." He's surprised how happy he is to hear her voice. He pauses and sighs. "Wishing I'd spent the last couple hours with you instead of...well, doesn't matter."

Best intentions. Spilt milk. All that shit.

"Anyway, I hope you've been having a good time."

Nia walks more slowly. "Yeah, I have. Had a good lunch, explored some nature, took a nap near a waterfall... All stuff that would've been great to share with you, too." She's frowning again and pretty much talking just to let herself think. Hard to tell if Book's just in a bad mood or... she's not sure. Something sounds off. He didn't answer her about his location, which isn't like him. And his not mentioning her message means he probably didn't get it.

Not one to avoid the direct approach, Nia puts a hand on her hip and asks flat-out: "Book, is everything okay? You wanna meet up and talk, or... anything? Still plenty of time left before we're back on duty."

Graham clears his throat. "Nia I--" he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "I really fucked up on a previous mission...I should've...I knew something was wrong...and..."

He shakes his head (not that Nia can see, of course...). "Yeah, I'd like to meet up and...anything. Anything at all." He pauses again.

Then he sighs , his shoulders slumping. "But I guess...I think I need to check on Ens. Kyl--, uh, someone on this ship, first."

As the drug is administered to Rangin, Nathaniel watches and waits for it to take effect. He hopes that it would, knows that it should. Still, in the meantime with the suit off, he starts to check for other injuries.

"You can go." Nathaniel says in a dismissive tone to the crew members who'd brought Rangin to Sickbay, not even bothering to look in their direction as he focuses on his task. He didn't need them here and at this point they were a distraction.

Speaking of extraneous people in the room, it didn't escape Nathaniel's notice that a Lt. Commander from Engineering had joined the Captain. Nathaniel is irritated by the growing number of people gathering in his Sickbay. And while he just arrived on board moments ago, it is HIS sickbay.

"Captain Singh," Nathaniel addresses her. "I realize we haven't met formally, but I have a patient to take care of. And unless your being here directly concerns Rangin, can this wait?"

Kylah lets her arm drop and walks by Mr. Johnson's side. It is difficult to curtail her impulse to walk faster, or even break into a run. For an instant, she regrets having offered to help her crewmate, who is only slowing her down.

She forces her gaze to the floor, embarrassed even though Ensign Johnson could not know of her impatience. The thought was especially unworthy, considering her own misadventures. How many Yorktown officers have been forced to attend to Kylah herself during one of her own varied multitude of injuries? Indeed, her disastrous choices on Anubis inconvenienced the entire ship.

Standing by Mr. Johnson is the least she can do. Besides, she rationalizes, it is doubtful she would be allowed inside Sickbay on her own during what is likely an emergency.

This thought is just as inconsiderate--the idea of finding this man's hurt leg useful--but right now Kylah is too full of mixed emotions to prevent her worst qualities from coming to the fore. Even as she blurts out that she hopes Mr. Johnson is not in too much pain, her mind tries to prepare for whatever she will learn about Velir when they reach Sickbay. He will be all right, he must be all right. He must!

Book's confession--at least, what little she hears of it--causes Nia to freeze in place. What could possibly have prompted this? At first she wonders if he means the previous mission on Sigma Iotia II, but her mind swiftly dismisses that as unlikely.

Then, just as she opens her mouth to tell him she'll go wherever he wants her to, he lets out a little slip, one little name. And Nia's lips tighten into a thin, annoyed line for a few seconds.

She exhales. "Of course, Book," she says, her voice warm but sober. She won't automatically contradict his harsh judgment on himself, because--well, she's fucked things up plenty too, and having others dismiss her regrets out of hand never helps. "Do whatever you have to. I'll be down here. If you can meet me, that'd be great. But if you get...delayed... or if you just want me up there sooner, let me know. We can get together onboard and talk about all this once you're through with, um, everything. Okay?"

All the tension she's not showing to Booker is being expressed by her free hand, which is still resting on her hip but now clenches into a fist, crushing the handle of the gift bag. 'Ensign Kyl' my ass. Of course it's her. Of course.

Who else would spoil Booker's shore leave? What a shame there's no one else on board to rush to the little princess's aid. Nia doesn't blame Booker; she gets him, she gets that his protective instincts are too strong to refuse someone in need.

But the Elasian is constantly in need... or so she lets people think. Sure, it makes sense: she's used to having servants and bodyguards, and maybe can't deal without having someone in attendance, waiting on her, protecting her. How convenient that in Booker Graham, Kylah's found the perfect man to rush to her defense. She seems to know exactly what buttons to push to get her own knight in shining armor. Maybe a tiny bit of those stupid Elasian Tears got on Book's skin and this is a mild case of that obsession everyone talks about.

Shore leave's not even half-over, and somehow she's managed to get in trouble a-fucking-gain?! Unbelievable. Maybe the guys in Engineering can spare a few extra gravitons and build Her Highness a set of personal deflector shields.

While Nia's internal fuming continues, she waits to see if Booker's okay with this plan or if he wants to say anything else. Otherwise she'll head back to the riverbank and find some rocks to fling into the rushing current.

Guzman awakens with a snort, blinks and sees Onn standing nearby. She stretches and smiles.

The Cardistim works like a charm. Rangin's pulse becomes more regular and his color improves. His vital signs soon move into stable territory.

"Actually, it does concern Mr. Rangin, thank you, Doctor," the Captain says lightly. "And welcome aboard. I wanted to see how he's doing." She says to the other man, "Take his OS gear for a full examination and scan, please, Mr. Cheverez. I'd like to know if there was a malfunction."

"Aye, Captain," he says. He begins gathering up the helmet, divesuit, gloves and other equipment.

Kylah and Johnson arrive in Sickbay. The anteroom is crowded with the Captain, Chief Engineer Cheverez and others, and Kylah sees Rangin resting on a diagnostic bed just beyond. Dr. T'Var and a young man in civilian clothing are attending to him.

Graham is still on the surface, standing in a gently-waving field of prairie grass. Park asks, "Would you like to beam up now, Mr. Graham? They're ready for us."

Graham clears his throat and manages "I hope...soon, real soon" before signing off with Nia.

He nods. "Yeah, let's go," he replies to Park.

The young Korean officer says into his open communicator, "Park to Yorktown. Two to beam up."

In moments he and Graham have rematerialized aboard the starship. Park says, "I'd like to check on Rangin, too. See you later."

"As you can see, Captain," Nathaniel says. "He's stabilized, his heart rate is up. I"ll check for other injuries, but if all is well, he'll make a full recovery."

Graham mumbles "Uh..." as Park leaves--not sure how to finesse the fact that he's probably headed in the same direction.

Since he doesn't actually want to check on Rangin, but rather see what's going on with Kylah...

After a moment he scowls and heads (a little slowly) toward Sickbay.

"Excellent," says Singh, smiling. "Good work, Doctor."

Bennett finds no injuries on Rangin.

Park arrives in Sickbay and looks a little surprised when Graham arrives not too much later. By then, Dr. T'Var is talking to Johnson and leading him to another diagnostic bed.

Kylah gasps when she sees a tall civilian hovering over Velir, with Dr. T'Var doing little but standing by. She cannot even hear anyone talking--no questions, no orders, no status reports. Just apparently unrushed murmurs. She sees the backs of other Yorktown officers inside, but they too are observing, although at least one man is making himself useful by gathering Velir's uniform. Hopefully to perform some sort of forensic examination, but...

Wait, could this stranger be from "Uncle Al's"? Is he trying to get control of any evidence of their malpractice?

Then T'Var leaves Velir's side altogether to--to be with Johnson? Kylah's patience is frayed enough to rip apart, and she is long past holding it together.

"What is happening?!" she blurts, staring at the Vulcan. "Doctor, why are you not attending him? Where are the other doctors--Dr. Bucci, Dr. Villa?!"

With a groan of concern she brushes past T'Var to press forward into Velir's room, slipping past the man fussing with the skydiving suit. The place is crowded, and there is not much room for anyone else--but fortunately Kylah's small frame requires little.

One sharp glance at the stranger is all she needs, both visually and empathically. His outfit proves he does not belong--and worse, he practically radiates supercilious impatience. Kylah knows his type, she lived with them all her life. Well, two can play at such a game. She lifts her chin and snubs him to call back at Dr. T'Var.

"Why are you letting this... person... so near Ensign Rangin? If he is some aide from that skydiving company, I would not trust him--he is likely more worried about avoiding a lawsuit over their potentially harmful equipment than determining whether it was truly responsible for endangering Velir's life." She twists back to glare at the tall man, whose green eyes are as cold as her late mother's crown. "Rest assured, my family will make certain that you pay for any damage... if anything--if anything permanent--"

Her voice breaks. Bracing herself, she looks down at Velir, still helplessly unconscious. Every instinct screams at her to touch him, physically: to let her fingers graze some bare flesh of his in order to amplify her ability to reach him. But she cannot, just pleading internally: Velir, Velir... can you hear me?

Dr. T'Var turns from Johnson, nodding to an orderly to help him onto the bed, and walks quickly over to Kylah. "This is Dr. Nathaniel Bennett, a physician newly-assigned to the Yorktown," she says quietly. "He just beamed aboard and is still in civilian attire. He has healed Mr. Rangin, who should make a full recovery. There is no reason I cannot now assist Mr. Johnson."

Rangin remains unconscious and does not respond to Kylah. She becomes aware that the Captain is not far away, as well as Lt. Cecilia Bennett, and only now recognizes the man collecting Rangin's divesuit as the Chief Engineer, her superior officer. They are not quite staring at her.

T'Var says, firmly but still quietly, "Perhaps, Ensign, you would like return later to see Mr. Rangin...?"

dp

Graham's a little stunned there's a cast of thousands in Sickbay. He decides to hold back near the door rather than plunge in - although he can hear enough to hear that Kylah sounds pretty damned on about something...

"T'Var, I can handle this." Nathaniel says with a wave of his hand.

Nathaniel didn't know who this latest intruder in Sickbay was or what nonsense she babbles about, and he didn't care. The one thing he did not tolerate -- ever -- was having his medical expertise questioned. He would give the Captain an earful if she were insulting enough to do that. He'd be damned if he takes it from someone of lesser rank. He needs not to explain anything. This woman wasn't owed a damned explanation.

"That's it." Nathaniel hisses, his voice razor sharp, but unmistakably full of anger and outrage. "This is Sickbay, not the Mess Hall. I want everybody out."

He glares at the high-strung woman who stands before him, and dares to actually give the impression, through words and demeanor, that she was his better. She clearly looks for a challenge -- and she was about to get one.

"And you can be the first to go."

Graham's mind is boggled by the number and diversity of people in Sickbay...and what seems to be obvious tension. And why he flushes slightly, seeing Cecilia.

His gut tells him things are not going in a good direction. Not that whatever he decides to do next will necessarily help...

He takes a deep breath and moves a bit further into Sickbay until he's within speaking distance of Cheverez.

"Cmdr. Cheverez...and, ah, Captain, ma'am, since you're here to hear it," he says without raising his voice, but still intending it to cut through the chatter. "I'd like to recommend Chief Nguyen for a formal commendation. I know transporting an unresponsive, moving target in open sky isn't easy. It seems he did a flawless job pulling Mr. Rangin out of a, ah, very bad situation."

Dr. T'Var's pointed introduction makes Kylah turn around to the stranger, more relieved that a doctor is indeed still attending Velir than embarrassed by her mistaking him for someone from the skydiving company. But the wave of anger bursting forth from this man is like a physical shove in her chest; she has to take a step back from him.

And then she sees Captain Singh herself, and Chief Cheverez, and Dr. T'Var somehow manages to sound peeved despite her Vulcan control... Now Mr. Graham, of all people, has entered the room. What more control does he want over her?

Kylah would normally be cowed by such a confrontation.

Then, as she is turning back to apologize to the new doctor, she again sees Velir's expressionless face. That is why she is here.

With a swallow, Kylah glances at Captain Singh. "Forgive me, ma'am. I know this is out of protocol, and Doctor--" She has forgotten his name already, if she even heard it properly the first time. "The doctor is correct to order irrelevant people out. But--but--"

She must try to corral her own wild thoughts. "But I can be of use. I was there. I saw him, I can answer any questions about his behavior or his appearance, either today or last night. We were... we are friends," she tries to explain to the new doctor, although she suspects her words are bouncing off the virtual brick wall of his arrogance.

Afraid of being pushed or even beamed out, Kylah speaks as quickly as she can, barely taking full breaths. "I know Dr. T'Var said Velir would be all right, but with respect, Chief Cheverez is only now taking his uniform, so I assume it has not yet been examined for a malfunction. Do you even know what happened, or why he has not yet recovered consciousness? Given his past, you must be concerned..." Kylah suddenly notices that the tall stranger is holding a small device, but not a padd. A flood of urgency quickens her heart rate.

"Do you know his medical history? Surely Dr. T'Var must have--" She turns to the older woman again. "Did you tell him all that Mr. Rangin has been through? The slime devil bite, the mind control, the Sakathian attack? The virus?"

Her stomach lurches at the thought. Kylah whips her focus back to the new doctor. "Three months ago we were attacked by people infected with this virus that--that mutated them, turned their minds savage. Mr. Rangin was bitten and developed a terrible fever. Another of our crew--she fell into a coma, it lasted nearly two months and then--then she died, just recently. Captain, do you not think..." She stares at older woman. "I know he seemed to recover, and that he did not react the way Lt. Fujishiro did. But that virus was so unpredictable. The way a human reacted would not be the same as a Coridanite. And something changed his brain, did it not? The episode with Mr. Palver, his sudden ability to fight off mind control? Velir told me despite multiple tests, none could explain what had happened. What if this is all connected? Doctor, could the virus have lain dormant all that time, and now..."

The possibility is terrifying, as is her growing suspicion that no one bothered telling the new doctor any of this. "Sir," she says shakily, craning her neck up at the tall man and doing her best to prevent herself from crying--this man will not be moved by such a display. "I am very sorry for mistaking you for a civilian, and I do not want to waste your time. But if this is all news to you, I have not wasted it. I cannot believe a capable doctor would begrudge such information. If you wish more, I will be at your service... outside of your Sickbay. Though not far from it."

She is losing her battle against tears, so she ducks her head, mutters another apology to the Captain, and starts to leave. Nearing Mr. Graham, her body automatically swerves to avoid passing within a meter of him.

The Captain says, "Just a moment, Mr. Kylah. Thank you for the useful reminder as to Mr. Rangin's earlier... health issues. I'm sure Drs. Bennett and T'Var have, and will, provide the best care possible. Please prepare a report as to your orbital skydive, and send copies to me, the Chief Engineer and the doctors." To Graham she says, "I'm inclined to agree that Chief Nguyen is due a commendation, and I'll be discussing that with Mr. Cheverez after he's had a chance to examine and scan the divesuit. I'd like your report as to what happened, also, and will be asking the other divers to do the same."

Singh nods at Dr. Bennett and smiles a little. "For now, though, I think we should just get out of the doctors' way." She gestures towards the doors, and everyone leaves but Sickbay staff and their two patients.

Nathaniel feels a bit of his annoyance lesson as all the uncessary people finally make their way of his Sickbay. He is going have to thank the Captain at some point — maybe. But over all he knows he is going to have to establish some ground rules about how things would be run — and quickly.

As he looks around Sickbay he realizes there are so many things that needed to be changed, so much to be done to get this up to his standards. Even though he did not primary take this job because he wants to be in Starfleet and on a starship again, it does not mean he would not do his best job for the hopefully limited time he would be here. But a cleansing shower and some food is in order now that his patient is out of danger. Then he could proceed to getting down to work, not just regarding the new job, but his more personal reasons for being here as well.

He wonders what that woman, that strange overwrought woman was babbling about in regards to Rangin — and why no one had told him. Nathaniel does not think it matters to Rangin’s heath at this point, but nevertheless he supposes he should look into it. You could never be too careful.

Graham's relieved the Captain uses some impressive command diplomacy to defuse the situation.

He starts to mve toward Kylah, going so far as to open his mouth to quietly ask her what's wrong, when she pretty obviously (it seems to him) veers away.

He feels more tired and sad than anything else. He lets himself indulge in it rather than fight it off--after all we're back on the ship and Rangin's incapacitated, so what more could go wrong, at least for the moment?

He signs internally and vectors toward Cecilia (staying out of Kylah;s way in so doing). He clears his throat. "You're not feeling under the weather, I hope?" he asks.

After acknowledging the Captain's reassurances with a dutiful but dull nod, Kylah casts a lingering backward glance that first takes in the new doctor--hoping he will ask her anything, tell her anything, but he seems not to regard her at all--and then, Velir. Who lies silent, pale, and, aside from his breathing, terrifyingly still.

On her way out, she passes Dr. T'Var but does not look at her. To Mr. Johnson she offers only a distracted nod. Finally she is in the corridor, where she makes a beeline to stand opposite the entrance. The others leaving the Sickbay are blurs whom she ignores by closing her eyes.

The exhaustion of the day conquers her. She leans against the wall, its cool temperature radiating beneath her thin uniform. A shudder ripples her frame. Even hugging herself does not warm her, because the chill stems from deep within--and it is dread.

Nia meets Luisa's sleepy smile with a somewhat twisted one of her own, then kneels down near the edge of the riverbank to look for rocks--she wasn't joking about wanting to throw stuff. And if she happens to aim for one of the smallest trees across the water while imagining it to be a little brunette damsel-in-distress, she'll damn well do it without an ounce of guilt.

"So, Lu, this might seem like a strange question," she begins caustically, her nimble fingers picking out a few loose wet pebbles from the soil. "But d'you sometimes feel like being competent is a disadvantage?"

Dr. T'Var is tending to Johnson; Dr. Bennett is alone with his patient at the moment. Rangin's biosigns are all looking better.

Lt. Cecilia Bennett, out in the corridor, smiles and touches Graham's arm. She says, "No, I'm fine. I just followed my cousin, our new doctor, here from the transporter room. I was there when Mr. Rangin was beamed up."

Guzman thinks for a moment. "Around incompetent people, or people who don't know their own limitations, sure. I guess I've felt that way before. Not often in Starfleet, fortunately, though. Why do you ask, Nia? Have you had that experience lately?"

"Me? Gee, what gives you that impression?" Nia keeps smiling despite her dry tone. She rises, now carrying a few small but nicely weighted stones in her hand. A tree across the rushing water catches her focus as she continues.

"But seriously...I probably wouldn't use the word incompetent--this person I'm thinking of wouldn't've made it onto the Yorktown without some skills." Which Nia must grudgingly admit she's seen first hand. But that's neither here nor there and she doesn't feel like singing Kylah's praises right now. "I guess it's more about someone like me--someone who's relatively self-sustaining--versus a drama-magnet who's drawing the attention and energy of someone I care about."

She jiggles the stones in her palm as she thinks. "Maybe I shouldn't blame her, maybe it's my friend who's letting himself get sucked in every. Damn. Time. He's got this generous soul and he wants to help, because... he kind of needs to. But the thing is, I think she somehow knows he can't help himself, like it's in his DNA. And she's using him. It's practically a symbiotic relationship. Ugh, Lu, I don't know. I really don't."

Great. Now she's embarrassed and irritated at herself for sounding too much like a jealous girlfriend. Nia turns back to the tree and glares at it as if it's just insulted her mother. Guided by childhood memories when, exploring the badlands far from her family home, she'd often had to defend herself from attacking bar't'brei--vicious, poison-spewing white lizards native to the area--Nia narrows her eyes, inhales slowly, and whirls her arm to fling the stone at the target.

Onn misses narrowly.

Guzman follows the stone with her gaze, then looks back at Onn. She smiles. "You want me to find some more rocks for you? Looks like you need to throw a bunch."

Nathaniel grows satisfied that Rangin will be okay. Now all he needs is some rest. Nathaniel plans to take a look at the other patient as well, even though he is being tended to by T'Var. Nathaniel is sure the Vulcan is very capable, they usually are. But Nathaniel trusts his own opinion more than anyone else's. And it's not like she'd be offended, he thinks with an inner chuckle.

As he thinks of rest for Rangin, Nathaniel realizes as a wave of fatigue rushes over him, that he needs some himself. The long trip to get here, plus the excitement of his arrival seconds after being beamed on board has caught up with him. A shower, some food and some sleep in that order sounds good. Then he'd be ready to face his new life with Starfleet. And there was so much to do.

Graham feels as if he flushes slightly at Bennett's touch--not that he has any reason to, or should, for god's sake...

He shrugs slightly. "Your cousin? He seemed a little uh, abrupt--" he shakes his head and adds, quickly, "no offense. I guess I'd be silly to expect everybody to be halfway as nice as present company, relative or not."

The rock whizzing past its intended target causes Nia to blink, then laugh ruefully aloud. She was twelve when she hit her last bar't'brei. Apparently twenty-plus years has messed with her aiming skills.

She pivots slightly and shows off her muddy palm full of small stones. "Already prepared," she says, raising an eyebrow. Then she uses her throwing hand to point a mock warning finger at Luisa. "Now look here, Guzman. This had best not get back to any of your fellow navigators. Or anyone at Helm." Her smile makes the jokey nature of her threat obvious before she turns back to the tree, clucking her tongue in annoyance.

"I mean, honestly. Little embarrassing that I can take a shuttle and weave it through an asteroid field like a needle through a tapestry, but can't throw a stupid rock at a tree less than... what, ten meters away? I better spend some time at the range. I'd kinda like to make sure I can still hit a target with something more precise than a phaser cannon."

Nia's very aware that the communicator on her hip hasn't buzzed. Her curiosity is piqued, she can't lie. What's Kylah's latest emergency, and just what does Booker need to do to save the princess this time? Hopefully nothing dangerous. Eh, he'll tell me... or not. Up to him.

The thought is very casual, very blasé. But she winds up her throwing arm and lets loose at the tree just the same.

Dr. T'Var capably heals Johnson's sprained ankle with an osteo-regenerator and soon sends him on his way, good as new.

A young female Rhaandarite officer in red enters Sickbay and comes over. "Dr. Bennett? I'm Lt. JG Gallaya, Assistant Quartermaster. Welcome aboard the Yorktown! I understand you had some excitement right after coming aboard. I can show you to your cabin now, if you wish, or just give you the location and you can go there at your convenience. I've already arranged for your bags to be taken there."

Lt. Bennett smiles in response to Graham's comment. "That's very sweet. Yes, well... Nathaniel is a very skilled surgeon, but it seems his bedside manner might leave something to be desired. I haven't actually seen him at work in quite awhile. Hope he didn't rub you the wrong way."

Guzman laughs. "There's a reason Helm and not Nav is usually in charge of firing weapons, I guess. Try again!"

Onn misses again, but scores a solid hit on her third try.

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Osteo-regenerator
http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Rhaandarite

Graham chuckles slightly. "Uh, in my line of work, getting 'rubbed the wrong way' usually means someone--or something--is actually trying to smear you across the bulkhead. Hopefully things won't come to that with your cousin."

"I ah, need to..." Have a goddamn stiff drink, he thinks. Getting back in touch with Nia would be much more constructive, though...

"To take care of a couple things. Hope to...see you later, ma'- Cecilia."

Kylah watches the door, paying scant attention to the others in the corridor, but she does overhear that Lt. Bennett is apparently a cousin to the doctor. This information sends her gaze over to the navigator. Should she ask if the man is likely to have paid attention to Kylah's warnings? She debates this for a few seconds but the proximity of Mr. Graham inhibits her.

Why is he even here? To make sure Velir is dead?

Kylah closes her eyes again, aghast at her own blistering anger. She does not truly believe such a thing about Mr. Graham. But she is exhausted from the literal ups and downs of the day's events, and she cannot forget how helpless she felt when control of her suit was wrested from her... thanks to him. He could not understand this. He has physical power, he has strength of will. No one could overpower him. Even the mental paralysis from Mr. Palver did not seem to break his spirit.

She has admired that about him. Envied that. Maybe if she were as strong as he, she would not be so willing to stand watch for Velir, a man who has hurt her tremendously both emotionally and--depending on his role in conspiring with Darren Zweller--physically, as well. But she cannot forget what she felt for him. Still feels for him.

A sob escapes her and she bends her head, not wanting to be seen. She blinks several times until her vision is clear enough to allow her to stare at the Sickbay doors, just in case they open and allow her to see whatever work is happening inside.

Bennett smiles impishly and says, "All right, ma-Booker. See you."

The Sickbay doors open again briefly as an orderly leaves, apparently at the end of his watch, and Kylah can see Rangin being moved to a recovery ward.

"Thanks, Lt." Nathaniel looks down at the young woman. "Lead the way."

The woman nods and Nathaniel follows her. Outside was his cousin and further down the hall was that strange woman who'd made a scene in Sickbay moments ago. She was still hanging about? Exactly what was her problem? Besides being highstrung and overwrought that is. But Nathaniel didn't much care as long as she stays out of his way and away from his sickbay.

The officer leads Bennett to his new quarters, which he will have all to himself. His bags are already there, as promised. "There's a Yorktown FAQ on the Library Computer," she says, "but I'd be glad to answer any questions you might have. Are you any relation to Lt. Bennett? She's the New Crew Liaison Officer, and also a good contact."

Graham is resolved to stop screwing around and meet Nia (well that's a kind of funny way to phrase things, he thinks) when a sound of...something, he's not sure what...catches his ear and he realizes Kylah is...standing? Lurking? in the hallway.

He summons his courage and takes a deep breath and walks toward her..not too fast, and not entirely certain she won't up and run away.

Assuming he gets close enough, he asks gently, "Are you all right?"

Kylah stiffens at the sound of Mr. Graham's voice. She hesitates before responding, which is just long enough for her to notice the new doctor leaving Sickbay with someone. Her mouth falls open and she gasps, "Where is he going?"

Alarmed, she starts to follow and nearly calls for him, but the man disappears around a corner before she can speak. Now outrage spins her to face Mr. Graham at last.

"Am I all right? No, Mr. Graham. I am fed up and afraid. What is wrong with the people on this ship? Does no one care to do their jobs? Or do you all just prefer to do the bare minimum, regardless of whom you let down, regardless of the harm your negligence causes?"

Her eyes meet his until she finally lets out another choked sob. "Do you even know how you made me feel up there? When you ignored me? When you let someone take control over me? Am I a mere nuisance who can be squashed when I am too inconvenient? Am I not allowed a voice?" She presses a hand over her eye, where the pain of a headache is starting to blossom. "Oh, there must be someone who will listen to me!"

Infuriated, Kylah looks at Sickbay again. Dr. T'Var is still there, but she has already shown a lack of patience--for a Vulcan. Then whom else can Kylah appeal to? Dr. Villa is the first name that leaps to mind, but as upset as Kylah is, she suspects the CMO will not be at the beck and call of some stray ensign. That other doctor has been kind to me. Perhaps he will be an exception to the rule.

She pulls at her communicator. "Ensign Kylah to Doctor Bucci. Please, sir, are you anywhere near Sickbay?" Her gaze returns to Mr. Graham, daring him to tell her to keep quiet.

Graham blinks, a hollow feeling growing in his gut.

"I--just wanted to make sure you were safe," he says softly. He frowns and bows his head, and starts to turn away to leave.

He pauses for a moment and turns halfway back toward the young woman. Regardless of whom you let down.

It takes a herculean effort to get the words out.

"I know I let you down on OCIII. I'm sorry," he says, his eyes on the floor, remembering the moment he knew he should have continued on to the hotel, but didn't.

He turns to leave.

A voice comes out of Kylah's communicator. "Bucci here. I'm not too far off, as it happens. What can I do for you, Ensign?"

Both men speak nearly simultaneously, and Kylah has a difficult time parsing their individual words. She frowns first at Mr. Graham, confused by his change of subject. "Let me down... on OCIII?" she says, almost to herself, but then must respond to Dr. Bucci.

"Pardon me for contacting you directly, sir. I do not know if you have heard, but Ensign Rangin is in Sickbay now. We were orbital skydiving and he suddenly... lost consciousness. While he was seen to by a new doctor on staff, the examination was so brief and I--I fear Mr. Rangin's nonhuman biology and some of his past illnesses and injuries may not have been taken into account."

Kylah's hand grips the communicator more tightly and she looks at the floor, embarrassed. "Please, doctor," she says in a rushed exhale. "I wish you would consider taking a look. I know I should not be second-guessing your colleague, but Velir is--he has such a complicated medical history. This just seems wrong. Can you help?"

Graham clears his throat and grunts. "Look I'll just...leave you along to talk to the doctor. It's...obviously important to you."

Somewhat confused (unless interrupted) he heads back to the transporter room, intending to beam down to Nia's location.

There is a pause and Dr. Bucci replies, "All right, Ensign. I'll come by and take a look. Bucci out."

Dr. Bucci does not give Kylah time to thank him, but she is grateful nonetheless. By now she is used to doctors' brusqueness--although if she remembers the few past encounters she has had with Dr. Bucci, he gave off a gregarious, friendly demeanor. Perhaps he is concerned, she rationalizes, and the thought gives her a measure of comfort. At least someone is taking this seriously.

She shuts the communicator and looks back up at Mr. Graham, whose back is to her as he retreats. Torn despite her resentment, she wonders whether she should stop him and get an explanation. His emotions seem genuine, and she believes his regret... but in truth she does not understand the reference to OCIII. Kylah herself regrets many things from that mission, and does so almost daily when some insidious memory creeps into her mind.

But Mr. Graham? How did he let her down? His accusations of her having flirted with Lord Fastolfe, the total breakdown of his Security team that led to her dangerous confrontation with Mrs. Hsu...? Why would he bring these up now? Unless he blames himself for not breaking free of Mr. Palver after all.

The possibility startles her; she had the impression he never gave that incident a second thought. Kylah shakes her head infinitesimally and, since he is too far for her to call him back without a shout--and she does not wish to cry out for him--she just watches him leave, deciding to broach this subject later.

Graham heads to a replicator and asks for one red Terran rose.

If not otherwise interrupted, he asks the Bridge for Lt. Onn's location, goes to the nearest transporter room, and asks to be beamed down to her location.

Nia chuckles at her success at finally hitting the tree. "Well, that's more like it!" she says with an exaggerated ring of triumph in her voice. "Now I'm totally combat-ready. All hail Lt. Nia Onn: deadliest foe against any enemy who stands perfectly still, then obligingly waits for her to take three shots!"

Wiping her damp hands together, she backs up and takes in the view, less annoyed than before but in possession of a new goal. Definitely hitting the range. She's actually a good shot with ship-level weaponry, but with the increase in her landing- and boarding-party assignments, she's come up against more situations where high skill with a phaser was required.

And she's come up short more than once. If she'd hit that damn Klingon on the Aelyrr ship, he wouldn't have escaped and the Codex would've been reclaimed much sooner--and most important, that same bastard wouldn't've shot Book, nearly destroying his leg.

"You ever had any narrow escapes, Lu?" she asks, preferring to avoid continuing this mental journey. She bends her knees, resting on her haunches by the riverbank to toy absently with some longer blades of grass. "In a face-to-face sort of way, that is. I don't think you've said much about your service before joining the Yorktown."

Graham learns that the Yorktown's replicators can produce food and drink, but not other items such as roses, red or otherwise.

Dr. Bucci passes Kylah on his way into Sickbay. "Ah, Ensign. There you are. Would you like to come with me to see Mr. Rangin?" he asks.

Guzman thinks and says, "I got shot at by some rebel Boslics once when I was serving aboard the Pyongyang. I was on a landing party and they didn't appreciate visitors to their secret base." She grins. "Fortunately, their aim was even worse than some folks I could mention."

http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Boslic

Kylah, grateful for Dr. Bucci's quick arrival, nods and blurts a mindless "Yes, please, Doctor." But even as she follows him back into Sickbay, she regrets the decision. Despite her anxiety about Velir and her desire to see him awake, she is far from certain that he would want to see her.

"I do appreciate your coming," she continues in a low, hurried murmur. "I do not mean to imply that this new doctor is not skillful. But he did not seem to listen to me, and everything took so little time... I just worried that he might not have realized how--unusual--Mr. Rangin's past is. After the Sakathian virus, and the mental changes he exhibited later... a Coridanite such as Mr. Rangin might have a more delayed reaction than Lt. Fujishiro did. I hope I am wrong, but..."

She realizes she is babbling and lets her words die out.

Guzman's teasing catches Nia by surprise, and she grins. Instead of responding verbally, Nia yanks a couple of the grass blades loose, presses them together against her lips, and blows a somewhat feeble whistle at her friend. "I don't see you launching any successful attacks on the local flora the way I have. Get off that lazy butt of yours and take a few shots yourself. Plenty of stones left."

Still smirking, Nia puts the grass between her hands again and tries to do a better job at fashioning the whistle. Andy Johnson taught her this trick and she's never quite gotten the hang of it. "Well excuse me, mister," she'd insisted when--like Luisa--Ajay mocked her pathetic attempts. "We Sidonians don't have grass to waste like you humans do."

"You have any ideas for the rest of the day? I kind've hoped Graham would be joining us, but he seems to have taken on some extra duties that... delayed him. Always going above and beyond the call of duty, that guy. At this rate I don't know how much longer he'll have to get planetside. What time is it, anyway?" she asks in a murmur to herself, checking her communicator.

"She's my cousin." Nathaniel responds flatly, as he starts to unpack the few belongings he'd brought with him, not really interested in elaborating further.

Nathaniel hopes she would take the hint and leave. He just wants to eat and rest for now. Maybe if she was a good looking young man he might be more inclined to talk --- or something else. It has been awhile. Too long, in fact. While he had no trouble getting sex whereever he went during his travels for the past couple of years, the one good thing about Starfleet was there always seems to be attractive men around of all sorts of races, either from Earth or alien. And Nathaniel certainly appreciates that.

"Thank you for your offer, but I don't wish to take up anymore of your time." Nathaniel says with a nod that nearly points at the door.

Dr. Bucci nods sympathetically. "I understand. Give me a few minutes to look in on him, and then I'll come get you." He leaves Kylah in a small Sickbay waiting room.

Guzman gets up with a comically-exaggerated sigh and picks up some rocks. She squints at the tree, hefts the rock in her hand and hits the tree with her first throw. She drops the other rocks and crows, "Victory is mine! No need to throw any more, obviously." In response to Onn's question she says, "No, no plans. Whatever you want."

Onn sees that shipboard time is now 1007 hours. They still have about seven hours of shore leave remaining.

"Of course, Doctor," the young Rhaandarite officer says, not taking offense. "Glad to help. I'll hope to see you around, then." She leaves.

Graham briefly considers trying to get the replicator to produce zucchini flowers or some other edible flower-like thing, but thinks better of it.

He decides on a carafe of lemonade (not sure whether Nia's tried the tradtional Terran drink for hot days) and then asks for her location (if and when he has it, he heads for the nearest transporter room).

Transporter Chief Nguyen can tell Graham, from her communicator signal, that she is in a public park down in Holloway City.

"Thanks Chief," Graham replies. "Can you beam me down behind a dozen yards or so, as best you can tell?"

Nia's eyes narrow as she raises a speculative brow at Luisa. "Hmm. Remind me not to bet against you next time you play pool. As far as plans or what to do..."

What she'd really like to do is Book, in this long, cool grass, with the water roaring past and blood rushing in her ears. But that doesn't give Luisa much of a role except watching, and Nia's pretty sure Lu's not the voyeur type--and that Book's not an exhibitionist. Plus, he might not even get here.

Hiding her frustration, she leans over and grabs her shopping bag, toying with the handles. "I dunno. Maybe if we walk around we'll find something with buzz, maybe some local square with art, music, crafts, dance, whatever. Damn, I really should've read up on the highlights of this place."

A breeze lifts some spiraling tendrils of hair and tickles her forehead, and she smiles, her tension dissolving. "All I know is, I wanna stay outside as much as possible. We don't get enough of..." She waves a hand to take in the nature surrounding them. "All this."

Chief Nguyen says, "Of course." Graham steps up on the transporter platform and is beamed down. Onn and Guzman see him materialize not far away on the hilltop.

Graham looks around for Nia (if he sees her, he waves and heads in her direction.)

Nathaniel is not surprised that what he brought on board barely fit in one drawer in his quarters. He'd never been one to have a lot of things and when you spent the last few years travelling in God forsaken places like he had, there was little use for carrying around a lot of possessions. Besides, he had his memories. And that was enough. Sometimes too much.

His home back on Earth had anything that mattered to him, but he hadn't been there in years. He hadn't even gone back to Earth before traveling here to accept this assignment. He only wanted to get to the Yorktown and get started on his new mission, both as the ship's newest doctor, but his personal one as well.

He feels better, at least cleaner and sated now that he'd had a shower and something to eat from the replicator. The beef stew hadn't been bad, though it certainly wasn't as good as he could make it. Then again, Nathaniel could not remember the last time he indulged in cooking a meal, especially from scratch. He used to do it all the time. It impressed men and the old saying about reaching a man's heart through his stomach was true, though Nathaniel had never been interested in a man's heart. Well, except for once. And that was long ago and not worth thinking about.

He knows that shore leave is only a few hours more, but Nathaniel is going to spend his time getting some much needed rest.

Before he climbs into bed, he looks at the Starfleet uniform that hangs in his closet. He never planned to put that damn thing on again, never had the desire to. He never enjoyed his time in Starfleet, that was for the rest of the Bennett men. They loved it. And resented him for feeling otherwise. But he has no choice to be here, to wear that uniform again, not if he would get what he wants. And he plans to. Nothing or no one would get in his way. Not this time.

And as he closes his eyes, he wonders if he'll have that dream again. If he'll see him again. He hopes not. Lord, he hopes not.

Nia's eyes widen when Booker appears, and her mouth follows suit in a bright, welcoming smile. Standing from her crouched position, she sees his wave and lifts her free arm to beckon him toward her. "Looks like he cleared his schedule after all," she says quietly to Luisa.

As she examines Booker, even more pleased than she expected to be by the sight of his rugged face and the sturdy frame beneath his uniform, she resists the impulse to jog down and just glomp on him. But she does start down the hill a few steps; no sense in pretending she's not looking forward to being with him.

For an instant she wonders what he sees when he looks at her. She can sense she's a bit of a mess--stray curls are loose from her low ponytail, her hands still have some dirt from scooping up those stones, her uniform's damp and probably has grass stains on the back... Then again, if he's looking at her backside, it won't be to make sure her clothing's pristine.

Besides, Book hopefully knows by now that she's neither an Elasian princess nor an English rose. Nia figures he'll either accept her as-is or not at all.

"Hey, you made it," she calls down to him once she gets a little nearer. "Everything okay, I hope?"

Kylah paces in the waiting room, hands clasping and unclasping. After some moments she takes a seat, which soon feels too passive and so she stands up to walk the room again.

Graham shrugs and rubs at his temple with his free hand. "Okay?" He shakes his head. "Hell I don't know--nobody's dead, so, I guess."

Though that could go either way, he thinks, but doesn't vocalize, remembering Rangin has been a source of some contention between them.

He lopes foward a few steps, intending to take her hand and give her a kiss...then it registers that she's not alone.

"Uh--" he pulls up short. "You look nice, Nia," he says, taking in her unkempt appearance and liking it all the same. "Who's you're, ah, friend?..."

Dr. Bennett is more tired than he thought, and drops off to sleep very quickly. He has a dreamless sleep, his first aboard his new ship.

Dr. Bucci emerges after ten minutes or so and says, "Mr. Rangin is awake but a little groggy, and says he just wants to rest. He should be fine, but I'm going to order some more tests. It looks like his orbital skydiving suit's life-support system malfunctioned. After his initial treatment here, he was a little slower regaining consciousness than I like to see."

"Luisa Guzman," the young Latina officer says, glancing at the lemonade and then waving a little to Graham. "Hi. I... should be on my way. Three's a crowd and all." She gets up, brushes off her backside and pulls out her communicator.

With a little gasp, Kylah moves forward and listens intently to Dr. Bucci, peering with a hopeful gaze. "He spoke," she whispers as if to confirm this to herself. But the doctor must not be certain there is no continuing damage, or he would not wish further examination. A frisson of fear runs through her, thanks both to her caring for Velir and her own terror of invasive tests.

Still, at least now Velir will receive the medical attention he deserves. Relieved that at least this doctor is not brushing her off, Kylah clasps his arm in gratitude.

"Thank you, Dr. Bucci. I could not seem to get your colleagues to listen to me. But a doctor's role is to persevere, to make sure no stone is unturned until the truth of the case is uncovered. Is that not so? One must never stop asking questions when one is dealing with a person's life. Or even their death," she says softly, thinking of her parents and other strange losses she has suffered.

Hmm. Booker's response seems... muted, or unsettled, somehow. Nia puts a little mental note in her brain that reads, Check in with him later, before turning to Luisa in surprise. Seeing the other woman prepare for apparently beaming out, she climbs a few paces back up the hill.

"Hey, don't be silly. I asked what you wanted to do for the rest of the day for a reason." She frowns slightly and, lowering her voice, adds, "C'mon, Lu, I'd hope you know me better than to think I'd ditch a friend just because my... um... guy shows up. I hate women who do that. I mean, if you really wanna leave, no prob. But as far as I'm concerned, Booker's joining our party, you're not the odd-person out."

She grins and, not minding if Booker hears her, adds: "I promise we won't be making nauseating lovey-dovey faces at each other, if that's what you're worried about--that's not my style either." With an arch glance back at Booker, she murmurs, "Although admittedly I don't know Mr. Graham here well enough yet to know just how much kissy-face stuff he's into."

Dr. Bucci looks down and gently detaches Kylah's hand. "Uh, yes, that's true. But don't worry: Ens. Rangin is on the mend, and receiving the best care we can provide."

Kylah notices two medtechs in blue walk by and glance at them on their way out of Sickbay.

"Well... are you sure?" Guzman asks Onn a little doubtfully. She looks at Graham, communicator still in hand. "I really don't mind heading out if you two would like to be alone. Seriously."

Graham smiles and points to the long scar running up and down his face. "I can't really pull off kissy face so well anymore," he says, "so I can guarantee I'll spare you that, ma'am." He shrugs and holds up the lemonade. "And there's plenty--of lemonade, here-- not sure if you're from Earth or not, Luisa, but there were Graham's stirring this stuff for picnics generations ago."

He blinks and adds, more earnestly and softly, "Seriously...if Nia wants you to stay, please don't take off on my account."

Guzman smiles, shrugs and says, "Well, OK. Thanks." She puts away her communicator. "I am from Earth, and I love lemonade."

Kylah clutches her hands together, trying to calm herself, and mutters, "The guide who was in charge of the skydiving group claimed that the monitors in our suits were functional, and Velir's life signs were normal. But if she was wrong about one, she was likely wrong about the other."

Swallowing, she looks back up at Dr. Bucci. "Sir, do you have any sense that--I suppose you cannot tell me much, I am not a relative and have no right to his medical information, but--generally speaking, what would be the worst-case reason for him to have remained unconscious for so long? Have you ever seen such a thing before?"

Nia stifles an affectionate laugh--Book's idea of providing a picnic atmosphere is a carafe of lemonade?--and turns it into a fond smile, which she aims first at him, then at Luisa. "Good, as long as that's settled. Lu and I were just wondering what to do next. We had lunch, then hiked up here to enjoy the view. To be honest I don't know what else there is to do down here. I thought maybe we could search out some outside concert or fair or marketplace... or just hike around the park some more to explore nature. Unless you'd like something more adventurous? Of course, we can take a moment to toast our shore leave via your lemonade, if you'd like. Thanks for that," she adds, her eyes beaming pleasure at Booker.

Dr. Bucci says, "Mr. Rangin said he appreciated your concern, and gave me permission to discuss his treatment with you in, uh, general terms. Coridanite blood-oxygenation rates, especially among post-adolescent males, can show significant variations from Human norms. I've only had one or two other Coridanite patients throughout my career, but Mr. Rangin's physiological response to the incident, and his manner of recovery from it after treatment, are not necessarily cause for concern. As I said, though, I want to run some more tests and see what I see."

Guzman asks Graham, "Do you have any glasses? Should I have some beamed down, or maybe we could find some in the park's snack bar...?"

Graham shakes his head. "I can honestly say I've had more than enough adventure for today." He rubs his chin with his free hand. "Walking around the park or finding some kind of local culture..whatever you ladies like sounds just fine to me."

He grimaces slightly. "Oh, uh yeah, forgot glasses...we could find out if this snack bar has anything that goes with lemonade..."

See, if it was just him and me, we could swig off that thing together, Nia thinks, eyeing the lemonade and wondering if that was what Booker had originally wanted. Maybe I should've told him Luisa was down here.

But Nia had kinda hoped that Luisa might have other plans. She's happy to be with both friends--however that word's defined; still, all this pretty territory would be lovely to explore with just Booker. All they have on the ship is the Arboretum, and that hardly compares to feeling the sunlight and breeze on your skin.

"So the snack bar it is," she says, chipper. "I didn't even think of the park having a food stand or snackbar or anything like that, Lu. Look at you showing off your superior navigation and targeting skills again." She grins at Booker but tilts her head in Luisa's direction. "This one beat me, hard, in a rock-throwing match against a particularly wily tree. I'd tell you to recruit her for Security if I didn't like her best of all my Nav partners."

Graham shrugs--almost but not quite spilling the lemonade. "Well, it's potentially a valuable skill, when we're down to using rocks it means we're really in the shit I mean..."

He pauses, less chipper, wincing slightly. I've been there. That hurt. He didn't make it.

He clears his throat. "I, ah, I've been there." He shakes his head clear and smiles. "But we don't need to worry about that here."

He pause a moment. "So, ah, Lu, I hope you won't be creeped out or anything if I, ah, asked Nia to hold my hand while we walk...and you know, hopefully, she says yes..."

Unease flows through Kylah like a river, but she cannot pick out any one thing in what Dr. Bucci says to explain it.

Perhaps it is Velir's willingness to have his health status reported to Kylah, of all people. He is a reticent man with a guarded nature--and that was true before his estimation in Kylah sank like a stone.

If he is willing for me to hear such news, maybe... maybe his memory has been damaged. For an instant she almost wishes this were so; it would be a drastic way to erase everything horrible that transpired between them.

Then, ashamed by the thought--especially given her own recent memory loss--Kylah looks at the floor. Perhaps Velir is worried about his own health and wants to make things right with her, just in case...

Do not be foolish. She drags a weary hand through her hair, tucking some curls behind her left ear. It is most likely that he wishes me to go away and leave him be. Yes, that seems like Velir. He has probably told the doctor to give her any standard report to brush her off.

Kylah has grown used to bad outcomes and has spent much of her life preparing for them. She looks at the doctor again, trying to believe him. "May I wait a little while longer?" she asks softly. "Would it bother you if I remained here? I will say nothing, I promise."

Guzman says, bemused, "If she wants to hold your hand, who am I to say no?" The three of you amble down off the hill and soon find the snackbar, a small modern structure with two bored-looking teenagers behind the counter.

Dr. Bucci gestures to a chair. "No, you're welcome to stay. I'm going back to my quarters but I'll tell the duty nurse why you're here."

Kylah smiles weakly and sits back down, folding her hands prayerfully on her knees. She does not pray in this fashion--she does not really pray at all--but this pose helps her feel somewhat in control. Exhaustion sinks in and she focuses on staying awake.

Nia grins. If she could, she'd wrap herself up in a blanket of Booker's sweetly awkward gallantry--or just wrap herself up in Booker, if they'd find the time and place. On the way to the snackbar, she sidles closer to him and entwines her fingers in his. "This what you had in mind, officer?"

Once they're there, she looks at the kids behind the counter. "Hey there. You have any spare cups? We have the drink but not the vessels. Also..." She squints as she looks around for a sign or menu or anything. It's not that she's really hungry--lunch is still making its presence felt--but she wouldn't object to a nibble if it's something she hasn't tried before. "Any interesting local snacks you can recommend?"

Dr. Bucci departs, and Kylah is left alone amid the subdued hum of activity in Sickbay. After a few minutes, her eyelids grow much too heavy and, despite her best efforts, she drifts off to sleep.

One of the teenagers says, "Cups are free with any purchase. Local snacks? Uh... we have peppercheese crackers, smuvdips and candied totters."

Nia raises an eyebrow. "Okaaaay, I'll bite. Literally. I'm guessing candied totters are sweet, right?" Sidonians aren't huge fans of sweet-tasting foods, since almost none exist on the planet. While Nia's fine with drinking lemonade to please Booker, she'd rather not overdose on sweetness. "Are smuvdips savory? Spicy? If so, I'll give those a try. Plus three cups, please."

She turns to her companions. "What about you guys? My treat."

Graham gives Nia's hand a gentle squeeze in response when she takes it.

He shrugs. "I guess peppercheese crackers sound like they won't kill me," he says. "I'll those a try."

"Smuvdips are a local vegetable," the teenager says. "They're kind of like sweet radishes, served raw. Some people love 'em; I don't." She gives Graham a wrapper with six crackers with melted, speckled cheese on them, and three empty cups. "That's five credits, please."

"Well, your sales tactics are hard to resist," Nia says with a smile. "But yeah, the smuvdips sound skippable. I'll just taste one of my friend's crackers, if he's feeling generous and not too hungry. If Luisa here doesn't want anything, I'll just pay the five now. Need my thumb, I take it?"

Guzman thinks a minute and says, "I guess I'll try the candied totters." The teenager gives her a box of ten of what look a little like glazed yellow stemless cherries. She insists on buying for everyone, and thumbs the credit tab. She nibbles at a totter, waggles her head and says, "Hmm, not bad. Kind of a sweetish-tart flavor." She holds out the box to Graham and Onn. "Want to try one?"

Graham shrugs and smiles slightly. "Don't mind if I do." He sighs and looks around. "We can find a nice spot and wash these, uh, delicacies with some tasty lemonade..."

Nathaniel wakes up and feels well rested. He needed the rest after the long trip to get to the Yorktown, not to mention everything that happened when he arrived on board. He has not slept long, just long enough. He has never required that much sleep anyway. Besides, it is time to get to his Sickbay and whip it into shape. From the little he saw when he was there earlier, there is a lot to take care of. He also wants to check on his patients and see how they are progressing, though he assumes they are progressing nicely.

After a quick bite: some fruit and a cup of coffee from the replicator, he dresses. As he stands in the mirror, he looks at his muscular figure well defined in the snug fitting blue Starfleet Medical uniform. He looks good, he thinks, even if he says so himself. But then, plenty of people, men and women has said the same ever since he was old enough to be aware of his handsome features. He only agrees with them. He still can not believe he was here on a starship, back in Starfleet. He never thought this day would come, especially not after he'd left in such a spectacular fashion. But he has no choice. He just hopes he finds what he is looking for after searching for so long. Part of him is tired of the search, especially after the past few years. But he could not, would not stop until he is done. He'd been asked to let this go and he refuses, even though his determination is costly. Nathaniel knows he is a stubborn man and he knows he got that from his father -- as much as he hates to admit it. They have little in common, but certainly share tenacity. Nathaniel figures if he gets something from his asshat of a parent, it might has well be that. It has served him well over the years and with what Nathaniel knows is ahead, would continue to do so.

He grabs his trusty Medikit, the one he'd had since his early days in Starfleet and leaves his quarters.

Kylah wakes with a start in the Sickbay waiting room to hear an alarm sounding in the room next door - Rangin's room. She glances at the bulkhead chrono and sees that she's been dozing for about twenty minutes or so. A nurse bustles past her and enters Rangin's room. A few seconds later, Dr. T'Var appears and also goes in.

Guzman spots an empty picnic table under some shade trees not far away. "How about over there?" she asks.

Dr. Bennett finds the Yorktown's corridors to be not especially crowded at the moment. He realizes some of the crew is probably still on shore leave. He notices a good-looking man or two along his route to Sickbay.

Nia thanks Luisa and plucks a totter from the box, then nods to both her companions' suggestions. "Looks like a pleasant place," she says as they walk over, taking little looks at Booker to see if he's as worn out as he sounds. What the hell did he do this morning that made him so atypically glum?

When they reach the picnic table, Nia decides to ask, as nonchalantly as possible, "So, how did you spend your morning, Book? Doesn't seem like it was very, um, shore-leavey."

Jumping up, Kylah stares in the direction of Velir's room, her hands clenching and unclenching. The alarm sounds very bad, and the sudden activity makes her heart leap into her throat.

She is too late to ask Dr. T'Var what is wrong--the doctor moved too quickly. Anxiety buzzes through her and after a debate with herself--which she wins--she follows the Vulcan as far as the doorway, then stops to stare inside. With hands clasped tightly beneath her chin, she does not bother the medical staff, but she cannot help whispering to herself: "What is happening?"

Graham's smile is more wan than happy.

"Well I guess I saved fucking Rangin's life, for what that's worth..."

He rubs his forehead. "Ah, sorry....Faisal had this idea to do orbital skydiving, which I did, and invited Ens. Kylah, and--well, aside from anything else, don't tell anybody, but I'm actually not so good with heights...Rangin blacked out or something and went into freefall, and I jumped in to get Yorktown to beam him out in motion, and Kylah lost her shit, and..."

He shakes his head. "I don't know what the two of you have been up to, but mucking out the local sewers probably would have been better than my morning." He sighs and offers a toast with a glass of lemonade. "But...this is nicer."

Guzman's eyes widen but she raises her lemonade cup, too. "Wow, I had no idea. Sorry you had such a hard time. Is Mr. Rangin OK?"

The alarm is silenced and Kylah hears muted sounds inside the room. Soon a medtech enters the room, and Kylah has a glimpse for just a moment through the open door: Rangin on the bed, his eyes closed, the sheet tangled, as T'Var and the nurse hurriedly attend to him.

Graham pauses a moment at Guzman's question, than smiles broadly and laughs out loud.

"You know.." he shakes his head, chuckling. "I have no idea." He clears his throat and shrugs. "I mean, I know he didn't crater onto the surface, and I know he got to Sickbay and I guess you know, nothing uh, terminal happened while I was there..." He sighs. "Helluva thing, right? Guess that's why I'm in Security and not Medical."

He glances from Guzman to Nia. "You kinda get trained to face down the crisis or threat in front of your face and trust Medical-or Helm, or Nav--to deal with the stuff where they're the experts."

As Bennett makes his way through the corridors of the Yorktown he flashes his signature smile at the attractive men that capture his notice. And with the intriguing looks he got back, it would seem he has a shared interest with some of them. This post wasn't going to be so bad after all, Nathaniel thought. But as he approaches Sickbay, he hears the alarm. He wonders what the hell is going on. Had one of his patients taken a sudden turn?

The door's brief reveal of Velir is enough to turn her blood to ice in her veins. She drops her hands from their prayerful position and clenches them into fists at her side. Otherwise she stands still, too numb to move from her spot.

There is nothing she can do for him. Even if she could reach out telepathically--a skill she has only found success with when dealing with someone to whom she is very close, very attuned--the interference from the others in the area would be far too strong for her to discern anything from an unconscious man.

Please let him be all right. I will do anything, I will humble myself and forgive him anything, if he will just recover

Nia absorbs Graham's news, taken aback that not only was he doing something so dangerous, but he was apparently doing it with both Rangin and Kylah. That must've been some rocky trip, she thinks to herself. She knows how Graham reviles Rangin, so if he saved his life, that shows a man who's able to do his duty despite his personal feelings.

Unless he sabotaged Rangin himself, Nia thinks--but not at all seriously. "It's lucky you were there, then," she says with a raised eyebrow. "Was this a big group? I mean, I suppose there weren't any medical crew with you?"

Part of her wonders why he asked Kylah to go instead of her. Again she stifles the impulse to ask. She's not supposed to be so proprietary toward men; what's setting off this bizarre twist of annoyance? It's not even aimed at him, but at Kylah... but the less said about that, the better.

"Either way, I'm really glad you made it safely, and I hope he's okay. Sure he will be, thanks to you. Never thought i'd say that," she adds in a murmur meant just for Booker, which she muffles using her raised glass of lemonade. Not bad; sweet but sour, too. She's swallowed worse. "How're your peppered whatchamacallits?"

Graham chuckles. "Uh, ok, I guess." He sips his lemonade. "Didn't mean to be a downer...Mahmoud, Faisal - not sure if you known him, Luisa--we served together in the past." He smiles wanly at Nia. "He had this skydiving idea, and I--well I figured I'd say yes for old time's sake, and that Kylah could use a pick me up of some kind, just be less....isolated from other people. Good people. Anyway, not the best idea I guess. There were a few of us from Yorktown but nobody Medical." He shrugs. "Guide said everything was supposed to be foolproof, but--apparently not."

He takes a deep breath. "Shoulda just asked this nice lady on a date," he says, looking Nia in the eyes. "Sorry to get mushy, Guzman."

Bennett arrives in Sickbay just after the alarm is silenced, and sees the same young woman in Communications red there, still looking about as upset as when he last saw her.

Guzman says, "No apology necessary, really... but I do think you'd have had a nicer time down here."

Graham's communicator beeps.

"Ah, excuse me," Graham says, checking his communicator.

"Mr. Graham? This is Cmdr. Vargas," Graham hears. "Sorry to interrupt your shore leave. Would you be able to return to the ship in, say, half an hour? I think I have some good news for you."

Graham replies in the affirmative. When he's done, he's smiling incredulously. "That was Vargas, of all people. He says he has some 'good news' for me." He shakes his head, chuckling. "Of all people to be bearing good news at all, but to me? Maybe it's 'I don't hate your guts and I'm not trying to have you transferred to a garbage barge at the edge of space."

He frowns. "Looks like I've got to head up in 30, though."

Nathaniel sees the overwrought, overemotional woman standing outside of Sickbay, looking as pathetic as she had a few hours ago. He wonders how someone could stay so high strung all the time. But he suspects she is high strung just making an breakfast order from the replicator. However, the alarm he’d heard no doubt had a lot to do with her current state. She must be upset about Rangin. Or rather more upset.

Had he taken a turn for the worse? Everything seemed okay before Nathaniel had left. He would have never gone to his quarters otherwise. The last thing Nathaniel needs is to lose a patient. He did not like anybody dying on his watch and he thinks darkly, it wasn’t a good look for the new doctor.

His concerns are confirmed as he walks into Sickbay and sees T’Var and a nurse in Rangin’s room.

He rushes in. “What is going on? What the hell happened?”

The tall figure of the new doctor whooshes past Kylah with a vaguely disapproving aura she can sense almost immediately. She steps back--not wanting to be in his way, since he has surely arrived to help Velir--and just watches in silence as he enters the room. It is difficult to refrain from blurting her angry suspicion that if this person had actually listened to her, Velir would not be surrounded by alarms and medical staff rushing to his side.

But she just digs her nails into the palms of her hands. She hopes Dr. T'Var will not defer too much to this newcomer. She has been here longer, and knows Velir's medical history far better than he does. What about Dr. Bucci, will he be back? And where is Dr. Villa?

Too tense to sit, Kylah remains behind the closed door, quiet and small and very frightened.

Nia's reaction to hearing Vargas's name is instinctively wary, but that smile on Book's face is pretty genuine, and she can't help but smile back. And she chuckles at his dark take on what Vargas might consider 'good news,' because... yeah. That's Nia's impression of the guy too. He's not exactly Nia's biggest fan, either. Hell, it wouldn't completely shock her if Vargas is dragging Booker back up to the ship just to piss Nia off.

Probably not true, of course. And she wants Booker to get some good news, whatever it is. So either way, she won't be pissed off. "Just a half-hour? Well, shoot," she says, pouting in light disappointment while her eyes sparkle mischievously at Booker. "We could get a lot done in thirty minutes, but not with three of us. Too much choreography involved." Her arm slips around his elbow, and she does the same with Luisa's. "So let's just stroll, enjoy the lemonade, and imagine what Cmdr. Vargas could possibly have to say that anyone would be happy to hear. Maybe he's fast-tracking those retirement plans?"

Dr. T'Var says calmly, "Mr. Rangin appears to have suffered some kind of seizure. It came without warning and I am as yet not entirely sure why it happened. I am conducting a full neurological scan now." Rangin is unconscious and his expression is pained; his Sickbay garb and bedsheets are dishevelled. The readings on the biosigns display above his bed are indeed puzzling to Bennett.

Guzman laughs and, having finished her snack, walks contentedly arm-in-arm with Onn and Graham.

Nia enjoys strolling with her friend and her... whatever she should call Booker. Boyfriend? The term seems absurd for a pair who've lived at least seventy-five years, combined. "Lover" isn't accurate either, even if Nia didn't think the word somewhat, well, icky. Eh, who needs a label.

"So I can sense you'd rather not talk about whatever the hell went on up there, but I'm curious. If you hate heights--and can I just say, you chose an interesting career path, flying on a starship where we might be many light years away from the nearest solid ground--if you hate it so much, how did Mahmoud manage to convince you to go orbital skydiving?" Nia grins wickedly at him. "I might wanna get a few pointers from him on making a strong-willed guy like Booker Graham do stuff he wouldn't wouldn't do."

Graham closes his eyes a moment, conscious of Nia's hand, but also the fact both hands are embraced, like walking with Lizzy on one side and..Jane. Jane on the other.

For once, the fact that he can't believe anything but the fact that Jane's dead and gone forever is a small mercy - he doesn't need to feel guilty for enjoying Nia's presence. No jealous ghosts. No eternal souls.

Would it be more like...the family he hoped to have if it were Kylah's hand instead of Guzman's on the other side...

For fuck's sake, what are you, Booker, a total idiot?

He gives Nia's hand a gentle squeeze before he answers her question.

"Ah, I guess it's kind of stupid, basically." He shakes his head and smiles. "Me and Faisal go way back, so once I opened the door to doing...something...I was kind of stuck with liviing down a lifetie of ribbing if I backed out." He chuckles. "Of course I guess if I were faster on my feet to come up with an excuse other than 'heights scare the shit out of me,' that would have worked too."

He pauses and clears his throat. "Uh, by the way, you two, I always kinda assumed the people who, you known, fly and navigate the ship and all that are so large and in charge that I can assume standing on deck whatever is like solid ground...if, uh, that's not how you feel, maybe, uh, not tell me."

Guzman says thoughtfully, "When I'm aboard ship it seems pretty solid, but if you really think about it, well... you realize just how fragile it is... just how little tritanium and O2 there is between you and hard vacuum. That's why it's nice to go dirtside now and then. You know?"

"Exactly," Nia says, but pats Booker's hand reassuringly. "But if it helps, I can promise you that when Lu and I are behind our stations, you are on solid ground. I can't necessarily say the same for all Nav/Helm partners..."

She laughs, biting back the surprising instinct to snark about Cecilia or Ben--surprising because cattiness is usually beneath Nia. Besides, knowing Book, any such crack would only trigger his old-school gallantry, leading him to rise to the other woman's defense.

"...No, no, just kidding. We're all Starfleet's best. You're in good hands." She lets her fingers caress Booker's in a touch that's warm, gentle--but full of promise. Damn, she hopes she can get him alone sometime soon. "So before things went, um, south, did you have any moments of enjoyment up there?"

"When in the hell were you going to let me know what is going on with my patient?" Nathaniel grumbles. "I should have been notified immediately, not just walk in here and find out."

And that really bothers Nathaniel. He hates to be caught off guard. And he was. He'd only admit this begrudgingly to himself, but he is genuinely surprised by this development. Rangin should be well on the road to recovery. Nathaniel isn't sure if this was caused by the accident that brought Rangin here or if it had anything to do with his past medical issues, the ones that weird woman has been rambling about. Maybe it is something Nathaniel needs to look into? Rangin's seizure seems to have stabilized for the moment, but Nathaniel is not planning to wait for another one -- or something worse to take place.

"So besides the scan," Nathaniel asks pointedly. "What else have you done that I should know about?"

Graham smiles. "I thought of you before we jumped off the stupid thing," he replies to Nia. "And I told some guy who looked scared shitless sotto voce that I've fought Klingons hand-to-hand and wasn't so keen on heights either, so he shoudn't feel like any less of a man if he bagged out." He shrugs. "Earned my karma points for the day, at least. Maybe the universe sprinkled some pixie dust on old "Good News" Vargas..."

Guzman laughs. "Never heard him called that, I have to admit. Not sure it's going to stick, either."

Time passes with the three shipmates happily talking and laughing together, but soon Graham realizes he should return to the ship.

Dr. T'Var raises an eyebrow and says, unruffled, "It just happened, and I thought you were off-duty. It is not the custom aboard the Yorktown to... claim patients that way. The duty MO is responsible for all patients in Sickbay during his or her watch." She looks at and then sets down a medical scanner, and makes an adjustment on the bed's biosigns monitor. "I have administered 2 CCs of Cordrazine as a stimulant and 5 CCs of Letrivol as a synaptic stabilizer. The patient is unconscious but no longer in seizure, and the neurological scan is nearly complete."

After some time on her feet, alert for any sound or stray emotion she might pick up, Kylah feels a wave of exhaustion that arrives with a chill down her spine. She hugs herself and takes some deep breaths. Her flushed face, rapidly beating heart, and weakness could be from thirst or fear--or both. She does not want to bother about the former and unfortunately can do nothing about the latter.

Kylah's longing gaze slips repeatedly toward the seat where she took her nap, but she forces it away. If she sits down, she might doze off as she did before. Instead, she pushes herself from the corner and paces a few steps back and forth in hope that moving will keep her eyes open. Please, please, let someone tell me what is happening.

Nia lets her arms slip through her friends' elbows, releasing them. As charming as it might be to be beamed up as a cheerful ménage à trois, she's not entirely sure that's a look that works for Ensign Booker Graham. And Lu is by far the most, well, traditional, of Nia's friends; not the sort to be amused by polyamorous rumors.

Besides, if Lu really does have a thing for a certain massive sweetheart of a Security officer, Nia certainly doesn't the aforementioned rumors to harm Luisa's chances where Double-T is concerned.

Before they're beamed up, she also leans in toward Booker and murmurs in his ear: "As soon as you're done with Vargas--assuming he's not sending you on some secret planetside mission--I'm claiming you as mine until one of us is on watch." She smiles, her lips just brushing his soft earlobe as she whispers, "We'll decide just how I stake that claim later. That sound good to you, Book?"

“I’m not claiming anything,” Nathaniel says pointedly. “It’s just a matter of knowing what’s going on in my Sickbay, which I should always be kept abreast of. I care about all the patients here, but I treated this man. I guess its hard for you to understand, but it’s only natural and some might say even human to have a special interest in his condition. As for customs aboard the Yorktown, this is my Sickbay. And here, I make the rules.”

Dr. T'Var says, "Indeed. The Chief Medical Officer will, I am sure, be interested to learn that."

"Learn what?" asks a short, spiky-haired older woman in Medical blue, just entering the room. She notices Bennett at once, smiles and sticks out her hand. "Ah, you must be Dr. Bennett! Welcome aboard. I'm Dr. Miriam Villa. Sorry I wasn't here to greet you earlier."

“Thats okay.” Nathaniel says, as he shakes the woman’s hand. “Its been an eventful morning... for all of us.”

"Yes ma'am," Graham says sotto voce--almost a growl--in reply to Nia before requesting beam-up.

"Thanks," says the CMO. "Now what was I supposed to learn?"

Chief Nguyen asks if anyone else wishes to beam up with Graham.

Nia enjoys the little ripple of pleasurable anticipation brought by Graham's very willing, and very masculine, response. "I'm ready," she says to Nguyen, while looking Booker straight in the eye. Then she turns to Luisa with a quite different friendly expression. "Unless you want to see more sights down here for a bit. What do you think, Lu?"

Kylah turns around quickly when she hears the Sickbay doors open, but she barely has time to register the newly arrived crewmember before the older woman passes her by without a word, entering Velir's room.

Dr. Villa. Finally. Kylah sighs, relieved to see the Yorktown's chief medical officer, whom Kylah respects a great deal. And yet... Kylah's lungs hitch mid-exhale. Is this good news or bad? Does this mean Velir's case is even more serious than she suspected?

Unless otherwise interrupted, Graham clears his throat as he recognizes a certain look in Nia's eyes, and requests either 2 or 3 to beam up, depending on their colleague's response.

Guzman thinks for a moment. "Nah, I 'spose I'm ready to head back, too. This has been fun, though - thanks for letting me tag along."

Chief Nguyen says over the subspace channel, "Three to beam up, acknowledged. Stand by." You hear the growing whine of the transporter effect, see the park dissolve into static before your eyes, and in moments rematerialize on the platform of the Yorktown's Transporter Room 1. "Welcome back," the little Vietnamese man says.

Dr. Villa turns right to Bennett and asks again, her eyes dancing, "What was I supposed to learn?"

Dr. T'Var says nothing but watches with evident interest.

“Honestly, so far I’m the one getting the education.” Nathaniel glares at T’Var, who seems to want to stir things up. “I’m learning all the reasons why I left Starfleet. And it’s only taken a few hours.”

T'Var raises her eyebrow again but holds her peace. Bennett can almost hear her thinking, That's not what you said before the CMO came in the room.

Dr. Villa says, "Really? I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

Nia clucks her tongue at Luisa's humility and gives her friend a one-armed hug. "Don't be silly, if anyone was tagging along, it was Booker--but we'll forgive him just this once. Especially since he's now stuck going from such a pleasant outing to... well, who-knows-what?" She casts a sideways grin at Graham, then nods to Nguyen."Thanks, Chief! Are you gonna get some time dirtside? Seems like you've more than done your duty on this watch."

Kylah gathers her will power to stop moving so frenetically and sits back down, hugging herself. She must take some comfort in knowing that three professional, highly capable doctors are by Velir's side, focusing the full force of their combined experience and skill to help their patient.

Graham says quick goodbyes and makes his way to see Vargas - straightening his clothes out on the way so he at least doesn't look rumpled.

Nguyen smiles and says, "Thank you, ma'am, but I already had my shore leave here."

Graham decides he looks presentable enough, and goes to Vargas's office. The First Officer is there with the Captain, who says, "Come in, Mr. Graham," and invites him to sit down. After a little small talk she says, "Mr. Vargas and I have been thinking a great deal about filling Mr. Collins's shoes. What would you say, Mr. Graham, to a promotion to Lt. JG and assignment as Assistant Chief of Security?"

Graham looks from the Captain to Vargas and back. He opens and closes his mouth without speaking, completely taken aback.

He clears his throat. "Uh, thank you, ma'am. Sir. If I may speak freely--it's not something I was, ah, expecting." Graham shifts slightly in his chair. "If you think it's best for the Yorktown, I've done..." He pauses and grimaces slightly. "You've seen my record--I do know the job. But--I won't let you down...Captain, Commander," he adds with more confidence.

"I know you didn't expect it," Singh says, smiling. "And you didn't even apply for the post, as some did. But your service to this ship since you came aboard has been exemplary, and we know from your record that you're up to the job. As you start up the promotion ladder a second time, if I may say, Cmdr. Vargas and I are both confident that your maturity and commitment to duty will stand you in good stead."

“The fact of the matter is that I have a reputation, one I’m sure you’re aware of.” Nathaniel says. “ I wouldn’t be bragging, quite frankly to say I’m very good at what I do, perhaps one of the best surgeons in and out if Starfleet. That is why I was given this post is it not?”

After wishing the others in the transporter room a good afternoon--and 'good luck' to Graham in particular--Nia heads to her quarters. Her skin is thirsty for more water, and a shower before she and Booker get together seems like a good idea. A shower with Booker would be even better, of course. But after his meeting with Vargas, who knows what sort of mood he'll be in?

On the way to her quarters, she replays her memories of the day and, while at first she's all smiles, a little nagging doubt forms in her mind. She and Luisa completely forgot about Giya. Well, Giya ditched them first to be with that stranger, but... that's the point. He was a stranger. Sure, Giya's an adult and can handle herself. And yet, given her instinctual, overriding sex drive, she might not be the best judge of character. In fact it's entirely possible she didn't waste time judging the waiter's character at all.

Odds are everything's fine, but Nia's not gonna be content until she's checked in. Only a few meters from her quarters, she stops, pulls out her communicator, and taps out a brief message.

Hey, G. Just returned to the ship. Had a good time--you were missed, but I understand your priorities! Let me know how you're doing? -- NIA

She sends off the message and heads into her cabin, where she'll keep an ear out for any response and, in the meantime, strip bare for her shower.

Graham stands and nods, respectfully. "Yes ma'am."

Well won't this be something to tell Nia...

And Lizzy? Maybe not. Why would she care...

He pauses a moment, then addresses Vargas. "Ah, if no one in Security has been assigned to take the lead on investigating what happened with Mr. Rangin today, I'll see to that now, sir, with your permission."

Dr. Villa's mouth quirks into a smile and she says, "That doesn't really answer my question, but all right, have it your way, Doctor. Yes, your reputation certainly precedes you."

"Pardon me, ma'am," Dr. T'Var murmurs, slipping out of the room. Kylah sees her as she emerges.

Giya does not immediately respond to Onn's text.

Vargas says thoughtfully, "It's probably more of an Engineering matter than a Security one, but yes, please liaise with the Chief Engineer on that."

"Thank you, Mr. Graham," the Captain says, rising and shaking the newly-promoted officer's hand; Vargas does the same. "And again, congratulations. Carry on."

The soft whooshing sound of the opening and closing door jerks Kylah's consciousness back to its alert state--it is only now that she realizes she nearly dozed off again. She sees the familiar tall figure of Dr. T'Var walking past.

At once she practically jumps to her feet. A mistake, because the sudden change in position causes a nauseating sense of vertigo, where the room appears to dip and swim. Flailing her arm a couple of times before it successfully reaches the wall, she leans against it for balance. But her focus remains on T'Var.

"What is happening?" she says, her voice weaker than expected, and she inhales deeply before trying again. "Please, Doctor, how is he?"

The Vulcan healer hesitates, then says, "Mr. Rangin had some kind of seizure. He is out of danger now, but still unconscious. We are trying to determine what went wrong. This was an unusual incident, especially given what appeared to be his earlier recovery."

A seizure. "It is that serious," Kylah whispers, a chill making her shudder. She stares at the older woman for a few seconds until the oxygen seems to flee the Sickbay, and Dr. T'Var doubles and triples before her very eyes. Her hand slips from the wall and when her legs can no longer supporter her, she narrowly avoids collapsing to the floor by grabbing onto the chair beside her.

Their last argument, the vicious words, the cold rejection... none of it seems important now. It will, someday, if--when--he recovers. But not now. Her head shakes over and over as she tries to suck in enough air to keep from losing consciousness. "Can you help him, Doctor? You must. You must fix him."

"We are doing our very best, Ensign," Dr. T'Var says. She looks at the young Elasian woman with concern. "But you appear to be unwell yourself. Would you like to lie down?"

Nathaniel knows he is being mocked, but he does not give a damn. He was used to people making humor at his expense. It had been that way all of his life. A child from his so called friends and even his own family, as a medical student from those jealous of his brilliance and excellence, as a member of Starfleet where he refused to fit the mold of what it was thought he should be. And he does not care if people thought he had an ego. He knows he does. But why should he not? Hell, he was good. The best at what he did. Why should he be humble about it?

“The point is, I’d like to make the surgical unit the best it can possibly be. I’m already seeing where things might be improved.” Nathaniel says. “But I can’t do that if I don’t have a certain.... atonomy. It’s how I’ve always worked in the past and the results speak for themselves. Having someone looking over my shoulder and questioning every decision I may make will only get in the way of me doing my best work. That is what we both want, isn’t it?”

Graham sends a text to Nia.

Bet you'll never guess the news Vargas had for me.

Then he hails Lt. Cmdr. Edgardo Cheverez and asks if he is available.

Lie down? Kylah looks warily toward one of the rooms. If she gets horizontal she cannot imagine remaining awake. She shakes her head and steps back, a little clumsily. "No, no, thank you. I am just... I did not eat much today, I suppose." An overstatement, considering she had neither breakfast nor lunch, but Dr. T'Var does not need to know this.

"I am fine, really. Just very worried." Kylah lowers her gaze, swallowing, and continues in a soft whisper. "You must know how much I care for him. You have seen us at our worst, but it--it was not always like this."

Just as Nia turns off the shower, the chirp of her communicator reaches her ears. Her smile--she greatly enjoyed herself in the rush of water--broadens. Giya must be fine, then.

She steps out and wraps a towel around her shoulders to prevent her hair from dripping too much. As usual, she'll let the air dry her glowing bare skin. One squirt of a special skin lotion changes the scent in the bathroom to a heady iris perfume, and while rubbing the moisturizer along her arms, Nia pads over to peek at Giya's message.

Well! She guessed wrong. Happy to hear from Booker--though a little concerned about her friend--Nia makes sure the lotion has seeped into her thirsty skin before she taps the device to read Booker's words.

Mysterious, aren't we? Nia raises an eyebrow and types:

Must be good news. Retirement ceremony plans? If the news will keep, why not surprise me? Are you coming?

She rereads what she wrote and suddenly snorts. No, she can't help herself...

Well, you'd better not be... yet. Let me rephrase. I mean, are we meeting up?

Dr. Villa nods and leans on the bedframe. "Of course I want you to do your best work, and I always allow my staff appropriate autonomy. High-quality medical care requires it. But when all is said and done, Dr. Bennett, I am responsible for everything that happens in Sickbay. Starfleet expects it - demands it - of me. Just so it's clear, I am in charge here, not you. I will look over your shoulder and question your decisions - not every one, to be sure - as I see fit. If you have significant changes in mind as to how this department should be run, you will of course run them by me before implementing them. And, of course, I expect that you will treat your colleagues and patients with the courtesy and respect they deserve. Now... is there anything else on your mind, before we return to Mr. Rangin's prognosis?"

The Chief Engineer says he's available to meet Graham in half an hour, if that would suit him.

Dr. T'Var says to Kylah, "I understand. We want only the best for Mr. Rangin, too, and will do all we can for him. He's in good hands, but there might not be any developments in his case for some hours yet. May I suggest that you go get a snack? Perhaps rest in your quarters?"

Kylah moistens her dry lips and stares up at Dr. T'Var. Even with her empathic skills, Kylah can rarely read Vulcans' emotions--they are far too controlled. But there are other ways to sense feelings, tone of voice being extremely important among them.

And as kind and patient as Dr. T'Var has been, Kylah can tell from the pointed nature of her remarks that the doctor is not merely making a suggestion. Any argument and she suspects T'Var will make the recommendation into an order.

She calculates quickly. The nearest Mess is only one deck from Sickbay; she will be able to return in a matter of moments.

"You are right," she says carefully, glancing downwards. "I would rather not sleep, but I should eat something. Thank you, doctor." She hesitates and lifts her gaze again. "I know you must pay attention to your patients first, and I would have it no other way. But if you have time, will you please contact me if anything--if there is any change?" Kylah inhales in preparation. "And can you tell me... could this be dangerous?"

Please say no, please say no...

Graham flushes slightly and chuckles reading Nia's message.

He shakes his head. Been around the block, but she can do that to me...

He's still struggling with the idea of going up the ladder--again--and what it meant last time. But today is what it is...

He pauses, thinks, and texts back. On my way. But I gotta do something in 30 'cause of the news.

He heads toward Nia's quarters.

"Ordinarily I would say no," Dr. T'Var says, "but Mr. Rangin's case has already surprised me, unpleasantly so. There is apparently much we still have to learn about his physiological changes since exposure to the Sakathian virus. But I will let you know if there are any significant changes to his condition. Please excuse me, Ensign, and I hope you feel better after something to eat and some rest."

Nia pouts to herself in disappointment. Thirty minutes? She did say earlier that a lot can be done in a half-hour, but that doesn't mean it's optimal.

Especially not for their first time. She's not rushing through that.

Turning to her mirror, Nia examines herself. Still wet and shiny--her skin has a natural sheen, even without her scales--her nude body is, well, a satisfying sight as she eyes the light glinting off the curves of her long figure. Not to be too egotistical, but damn. I look good.

Too good for just a half-hour.

Nia reaches into her closet and without even looking yanks out a filmy, blue-green robe, styled like a kimono. A gift from a certain senior officer back on the Meikike, the gossamer-thin robe falls only to her mid-thigh, and the vivid color matches and emphasizes her emerald eyes. Embroidered along the sides of the robe are stylized peacocks, necks entwined like couples in love.

If it weren't for the peacocks, the robe would be almost useless as a cover-up. The material is as sheer as her usual stockings.

Nia's smile turns wicked when she ties the belt, then relaxes on her bed, lying on her side, elbow propping her head. The swell of her generous...hips... challenges the loose material of the belt, but everything is still relatively covered.

She toys with the damp, russet-brown curls falling over her shoulder and waits, still smiling, but also trying to guess what Booker's surprise might be. Since it's tearing him away from her, she should resent it, but if it's something that makes him happy... she can't complain.

Regardless, hopefully the sight of her will stick in his mind as he hastens off to whatever this mystery assignment is.

With no other choice, an exhausted Kylah manages to make her way to the Mess, hunger a dull ache in her stomach. But just as bad is the stone-cold knot of dread, which Dr. T'Var's opinion has only tightened.

She orders some beef stew and bread, a hearty meal that is really more than she expects to eat. Still, it reminds her of the food that, in her childhood, the family chef would provide for her when she was low. It provided comfort then. Of course, an important component of that was the company of her nurse, who would sit with little Kylah and make sure she ate every spoonful.

Wistful, Kylah turns toward the tables of the Mess. There is no one to provide such companionship now. She has no one. Velir was that for her, once. Now...

Turning back to the replicator one last time, she gets a mug of sweet cinnamon tea, which is really all she wants, and then finds the nearest empty table, sliding into the chair heavily. She wraps her cold, trembling fingers around the mug and lets the warmth seep into her skin before taking a few sips.

Her eyes close. Her belly is so empty that she can feel the heat of the tea travel down her throat and into her stomach. Too hot, really, she should have waited longer. After a while she sets the tea down and, taking hold of her fork, makes some effort to nourish herself with the larger pieces of beef in the stew. She cannot concentrate--she keeps seeing Velir's obvious discomfort as he lay among the twisted covers.

After a while, she rouses herself and stares down at her uneaten mess--an accurate description for the results of what she has done with her fork, prongs listlessly stabbing away at meat and vegetables until they are indistinguishable. She drops the utensil and covers her sore, tired eyes.

That is when she senses something.

An aura. It is close, and it is strong: Malice. Menace.

She has just lifted her head in wariness when a murmur insinuates its way into her ear. "What a sorry sight. Poor little princess, pining away for her pipsqueak pal."

Kylah's eyes widen and she cringes from the source--a man behind her whom she recognizes both from his voice and his very presence: Lt. JG Mark Ferguson.



Edited w/help from Elendil's Heir

Nathaniel hates being made to answer to anyone for any reason. It was why he never liked Starfleet to begin with and hasn't missed his time away one bit. It was why he'd hesitated coming aboard this ship. Back on Earth, he called the shots and did as he pleased. It had been the same for his time away. But now that he was here, he has no choice but to give in and play this damnedable game to the best of his ability. He has to be here, no matter how much he might hate it. There was a lot at stake, bigger than his own ego, he has to admit. He'd let the good doctor have her little victory over him. This time.

Still, Nathaniel's teeth were on edge as he forced the throat catching words out. "For the moment, no."

"Very well," says Dr. Villa, nodding. "Thank you." She picks up a datapad. "It looks like the neurological scan is complete." She stands beside Nathaniel and tabs through the results, showing him. "Hmm. Slightly elevated norepinephrine levels, an odd fluctuation in acetylcholine dispersal, and some anomalous neurotrophin-5 readings, too. Yet again, Mr. Rangin has surprised me. Have you treated any Coridanites before?"

Assuming Graham reaches Nia's quarters, he rings the chime.

Nia smiles. "If you're Ensign Graham, come on in. Otherwise... ID yourself first, please."

nm

Graham chuckles and lets himself in. "Not quite, actually, but I---"

It takes him a moment and a few steps into her quarters to find and register her recumbent form on the bed.

"Nia..." It's almost a whisper. He blinks and chokes up slightly. "Nia, you look...beautiful." He clears his throat and recovers his voice. "Not just sexy, that, I mean, yes, but really...really beautiful."

He swallows and shrugs. "Also, ah, it's Lt. J.G. Graham," he adds, smiling slightly.

Nia, not prone to flushing, still feels her skin tingling with the warmth of pleasure at Booker's effusive compliments and genuinely touching reaction. But then... then she has to sit up straight, ignoring her pose and the carefully draped robe entirely.

"What?" Her eyes widen and beam with surprise as she stares at him. The modest, almost embarrassed way he's revealing his accomplishment is undeniable--this isn't a joke, not that he'd joke about this anyway. After a few seconds of silence, Nia swiftly swings her legs off the bed and rises, sauntering over to Booker. "Well... now I'd say that calls for a proper salute."

With a smile, she raises her arms and, once she's in front of him, drapes them around his shoulders and draws her nearly naked body up to him. Her proud, delighted gaze doesn't flicker from his own. "Congratulations, Lieutenant," she murmurs, and then melts into Booker with a deep, tender kiss.

The noise of the Mess Hall surrounds Kylah and the man standing so unnecessarily close to her. She does not want to look at him, but she does, at least to show her defiance. "Step away from me, Lieutenant."

Lt. JG Mark Ferguson straightens and smiles, a vain attempt at the effortless charm that his friend Darren Zweller has always displayed far more naturally. "I'm just showing sympathy. Heard through the grapevine that you've been haunting Sickbay all day, making a big fuss over Ens. Rangin."

He pauses, perhaps waiting for Kylah to say something, but she just clenches her teeth and tries not to react. He goes on, lifting a palm. "At first I figured it was all part of an act, just your excuse to hang around our new doctor. According to my sources, this Dr. Bennett seems every bit as likeable as you." Sarcasm cuts through each word. "Seems like a natural choice, so I assumed you were making a play for him. But--"

"I do not make plays for anyone!" Kylah blurts. But her cheeks burn with the memory of undressing for Velir so boldly, so desperately, in her quarters. She quickly looks away to the accompaniment of Ferguson's chuckle.

"That's not what I've heard." He then leans over so he can keep talking quietly. "Incredibly, my sources insisted it was obvious you and Rangin have a... 'thing.' I didn't believe it. A girl like you, and... him? The scrubby guy who probably ran God-knows-what errands for smugglers back on his dirty planet? The obliging little weed who kept the good times going with party favors back at the Academy? Him, and Princess Holier-than-thou?"

Kylah does her best to keep her face from showing anything but scorn. It takes extraordinary effort: his description of Velir makes her ill. Regardless of what Velir has done to her, he was--is--so ethically moral, so rigid... he had a set of beliefs he held to, how could he have done such things--?

Stop! Stop listening to this man! She takes a deep breath, remembering that only a few months ago, Ferguson was willing to put on an act for the entire rec room loudly proclaiming that Kylah sexually harassed him. Knowledge of his penchant for lies keeps her silent.

But this just eggs him on. "Nope," he says, smiling again. "I didn't buy it. Still, like I said, people kept talking. And you know how things are by now, princess. Gossip fuels the ship almost as much as dilithium."

Kylah is mortified. Her thoughts race, trying to guess who might have said something, who even knows about her and Velir, and who might have seen her today...

The first person who flashes into her mind: Mr. Graham.

Graham's surprised by Nia's reaction--not unhappily, by any means--but as she kisses him he tenses.

Nia, it's not you, it's just that I haven't really been close to any woman, really cared about any woman, in...this way, since...since...

The words run through his mind, but he answers them himself.

He shudders slightly, his body relaxes, and he returns her kiss, enfolding her in his arms.

For the first second or two, Nia wonders if she's made some crazy mistake. Booker's not exactly resisting, but he's sure as hell not reciprocating, either. Just before she's about to pull away in astonishment at her miscalculation... everything changes.

Ohhh. There you are.

She's not a small woman, and he's not an especially large man. Still she feels deliciously vulnerable, cradled, enveloped, by his strong embrace. It's clear he doesn't want her going anywhere, thank heavens.

She breathes his name, "Book," and brushes her fingers along his temples, through his hair, though it's pulled back as usual. She wants to rip it loose, grasp it, and hold his head to hers with the ferocity of her savage ancestors. And there's way too much clothing between her bare body and his compact frame. Her free hand starts to slip underneath his uniform so her fingers lightly graze his stomach. Her nails could dispose of this shirt so easily.

But.

Thirty minutes. Less now.

Shit.

Catching her breath with some difficulty, she kisses a trail from his mouth to his cheek, then his ear. "That assignment," she whispers through burning lips during the rare milliseconds they're not pressed against him. "Any chance it can wait?"

"Nia..." Graham whispers--almost less a response than simply saying her name and listening to it himself.

He squeezes her gently and takes a deep breath, pulling his mouth away form her face just enough to speak cohgerently. "If there's anyone, anytime, anyplace who could cause me to go back on what I promised Vargas and Chverrez within 30 minutes from getting promoted, it's you, here, now."

He moves his hands over her back, and a bit lower, hoping they convey how serious he is. Although she's probably figured that out from...other parts...

"But my feelings won't change if yours won't, a---a little later when we have some more time...to be...uninterrupted...for more time..." He brushes his nose against her hair. "A long time, I hope."

Sighing, Nia nods, closes her eyes and lets herself lean against Booker for a lengthy, silent moment. "You know," she says, nuzzling his neck and kissing him after each word, "....Sometimes..." (kiss) "...Duty..." (longer kiss) "Sucks." Nia's teeth gently nibble at his earlobe, then she applies her tongue to taste the sensitive skin just beneath, doing her own sucking--not quite long enough to leave a mark.

Then, reluctantly, she reaches behind her and takes hold of his hands, removing them from her soft flesh before stepping backwards and, their hands now clasped, pulls him gently to the bed. Her eyes never leave his.

"Okay, 'L.T.,' she says hoarsely, delighted to call him by the nickname he's used before to others. "Astonishingly, somehow the mere mention of Vargas's name hasn't spoiled the mood entirely. You'd better kill it off by telling me what his Commandership said." Nia sits down and draws Booker nearer, hoping he'll take a seat beside her. "I hope he lavished you with the praise you deserve."

"Uh, yeah..." Booker says slowly and softly. "I believe he said something like 'if a broken down ugly ass old non-comm like you can get Nia Onn to give him the time of day, you must have something going on the Captain and I don't know about,'" he replies with mock seriousness, smiling slightly at the end.

He clears his throat. "Well, he did say something about exemplary service, record showing I could handle it--given the need to fill Collins' spot, and all."

Nathaniel shakes his head, as he grows a bit more frustrated with this case. It seemed so simple from the start. Now it proves to be anything but. And he hates being at a loss and not having the medical solution to any problem. But he is hardly going to let that get in the way of succeeding. He is determined to figure this out, not that he needs to impress his...... superior. He wants to help his patient. And if he shows everyone around here who is the best that is a wonderful side effect.

“No, I haven’t. One of the few species I haven’t come across, in fact.” Nathaniel admits. “But, that’s hardly going to get in the way of my solving this problem.”

Nia's smile turns crooked at Booker's sarcasm--as if Vargas would ever hold Nia out as some kind of treasure after the way he's dressed her down for a (somewhat) harmless prank! But Book almost certainly hasn't heard that story yet. She makes a mental note to share that black mark on her record with him some night when he's being particularly self-deprecating.

Then his final words sink in.

"Wait...filling Collins's... Are you saying they've made you Assistant Chief of Security?" Her hands squeeze his more tightly, and her grin widens. "You'd better get down on this bed, Mr. Graham. Twenty-five minutes and counting still gives us enough time for more congratulating."

"No," Kylah says weakly, more to herself than Ferguson beside her. "No one would have told you..."

She still cannot get rid of her unease. Her first thought was Mr. Graham, but she cannot fathom that. Yes, she has had difficulties with him before, is still angry with him now over his ignoring her wishes and ordering the takeover of her suit during the jump. She has been burned by his errors of prejudice, overprotection, even intimidation.

And he despises Velir.

Kylah closes her eyes. She remembers Mr. Graham's strong hands covering her own during numerous moments of fear. The warmth of his concern was real. No. He would not have gossiped about me. It feels wrong. Even the things she fears most about his personality do not make this man the sort likely to speak so loosely about her.

Then who? Dr. T'Var? Laughable. Collins... She is gone, Kylah thinks, a swell of sadness and loneliness shocking her. Only a short while without Jeremi Collins, and the ship feels so different. We had our problems but I do not think she would gossip... unless she said something innocently to Mr. Cooper, and he...

Kylah's nerve wavers. She knows little about Ben Cooper. Except that he is a Helm Officer... like Lt. Onn.

Her eyes blink quickly. Now Onn is a possibility. The woman has a far too casual attitude and flippant tongue, Kylah is sure of that. The very sort to gossip. And, too, the lieutenant is close with Andy Johnson. Who definitely knows, with all the cooking he did at Kylah's request for Velir.

But would he...? No, no, he is a friend! Kylah believed him when he said they were friends! Could she have been so wrong in judgment again?

Oh! This is just what this creature wants me to do. To doubt everyone, question everything!

Indignation bubbles up into her chest and she lifts her chin. "You tell me, Lieutenant. Who? Who spoke to you? Give me names, dates, places! There are none. No one said such things." She clutches the edges of her tray, fingers white with effort as she tries to contain her hysteria. She must not lose control in public, not again. "We both know you are a liar! Why should I believe anything you say?"

Ferguson smirks. "I won't give you names or dates, but I will give you the place: Sickbay. This isn't the first time you and Rangin were the focus of attention there. You two put on quite a performance after your little adventure on Anubis. And nurses and orderlies have ears."

As Kylah's spirits sink and she digests this, Ferguson chuckles again. "Y'know, Princess, it's embarrassing how bad you are at this. You're so busy insisting that no one could've told me about you two that you've forgotten to deny it."

Her gaze darts up and she parts her lips in shock. Then her mouth closes. Because he is right.

Nia's smile is so spontaneous, and so without affectation that what might have provoked bittersweet memories of promotions past is swept up in the moment.

"Well if you keep me from my duties, I just might have to take you into custody..." he replies, rolling over onto the bed. "Hmmm then again maybe one of us ought to be handcuffed or something anyway..."

"A commendable outlook, Doctor," Dr. Villa says. She hands him the datapad and says, "He's out of danger for now, it seems, but I'd like your recommendation in the next, say, two hours as to a course of treatment. Run any additional scans you think would be useful, and check the Coridanite medical database, please. Anything else?"

Nia laughs and lies on Booker's chest, arms resting on the bed at either side of his shoulders while she looks down at him. "You'll have to use something special to keep a hold on me, Lieutenant." Leaning to kiss him, she pauses just before their lips meet and whispers: "My scales get pretty slippery when wet."

“No.” Nathaniel says, realizing he’d just been put on notice by Dr. Villa.

He takes the pad from her. She is obviously testing him and his abilities. There is no other way to read her words. He resents being treated like some first year resident on rounds. He is past having to prove himself to anyone and that includes someone who thought she is his better. But he did need to find out what was wrong with his patient, that is true. The man’s life is at stake, no forgetting that. Besides, there isn’t a medical mystery he couldn’t solve and this isn’t going to be one of them.

“I better get to work.” Nathaniel says.

Kylah's flustered mind tries to think of a way to refute Ferguson's all-too-accurate conclusion about her and Velir.

When she remains silent, the red-clad officer claps his hands in triumphant delight. "Damn, I wish Darren was here. He'd be pretty amused to find out just who's been planting his flag pole on Elasian territory."

Face burning, Kylah wants to disappear, but Ferguson only continues: "Who else, I should say." He leans forward again and murmurs insidiously, "Out of curiosity... did that little Coridanite creep slip in there before Darren, or after?"

These words send the remnants of Kylah's tiny meal flooding back up into her throat. She swallows painfully and jerks to her feet. "Filthy human pig!" she spits out. Still holding her tray, she shoves herself through a forest of chairs, almost in a gallop to return her tray to the replicator slot.

At last she wipes a hand across her mouth on her way to the Mess Hall doors, which whoosh open just before she barrels into them.

Her instinct is to run somewhere, anywhere, to hide, when she hears the doors and the footsteps behind her, and senses that he is coming. Kylah takes a few random, haphazard turns and before long she is behaving like a rat in a maze.

Eventually she ends up alone in some engineering facility she does not recognize. Clanging machinery, foreign and imposing, dwarfs her. Overwhelmed, she spins around to face the doorway--blocked, by Mark Ferguson.

Memories of the incident in her quarters with Zweller are still mostly lost to her, but she does know how it started. Trapped in her room, the door barricaded by a man who hates her...

Not again, not again!

This time she does not hesitate. She grabs at her communicator. "Kylah to Graham!" she cries even as she flips open the device. "Mr. Graham, please answer!"

"Thank you, Doctor," the CMO says. "If you'll excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to. Carry on." She leaves.

Nathaniel has a few ideas, but he does not think any of them would bear fruit. Nevertheless, he has to do some thing. He was on a deadline and the next seizure could be the patient's last.

First, he knows a scan had been ordered on the jump suit, but he didn't know the results. That would be a place to look.

And then there was the attack on the man had suffered by the Sakathian's. That odd woman had babbled something about it earlier and Nathaniel admits he had dismissed her. But maybe that was connected? Nathaniel even wonders if, like she said, there was a virus laying dormant in his system.

Or maybe it has to do with the tri-ox he'd been given and that caused his seizures? He hadn't reacted well to the medicine, at least not like he should have. It couldn't be as simple as an allergic reaction of some sort, could it?

But first he needs to scan for any traces of this virus if only to see if there is such a thing.

Nathaniel wonders if perhaps he is grasping at straws, but it is a place to start. He adjusts the parameters on his medical tricorder and turns it on and hopes he is on to something.

Graham smiles at Nia, letting himself relax...Cheverez doesn't have a care in the world about where I am for the next 20 minutes..

When his communicator loses holy hell. He would have reacted by instinct to an obvious expression of alarm. But as ACO it's that much more instinctive that what happens to the crew is his responsibility.

He moves immediately automatically, just being careful not to buffet Nia as he moves. "This is Graham. What's wrong?"

Nia cannot believe her luck. Or someone else's bad timing. She's tempted to close her eyes and bite gently on Booker's lower lip when he moves to answer the communicator. --and then, when the device flips open and she hears the desperate little voice bleating for help before Booker answers, Nia's instinct changes to wanting to take a much nastier chomp out of a certain pain-in-the-ass Elasian.

But she says nothing, waiting with a face that's a virtual mask of neutrality. This is is job. He has to respond, even if it's to a perpetual hysteric prone to flinging herself into dangerous situations.

She'd better actually be hanging from a ledge somewhere, Nia thinks, enjoying the prospect a little more than her better nature normally allows. It's just that, dammit, Book is inches away, and he is so. Damn. Hot.

Grateful for the sound of Mr. Graham's terse voice, Kylah clutches the communicator with both hands. "I am being harassed," she blurts. "Followed. I have tried to escape but I do not know where I am..." She looks around wildly, perspiration stinging her eyes. "Some... engineering room, I think? He will not leave me alone, and I do not know what he wants, but he might hurt me--"

"Stop! I'm not even touching you!" Ferguson hisses, barely audible above the loud machines. His hands are raised, palms out, and his eyes are wide with alarm. Yet he still has a ferret-like cunning to him, and even from here Kylah senses his attempt to find just the right way to stop her.

Suddenly his eyes narrow in satisfaction and he exhales a rushed, whispered command: "Say one more word about me and you'll never find out what happened with you and Darren!"

The machines fill in the gap left by his all-too-effective words. Kylah just stares at him, starving for the truth but terrified to have Mark Ferguson feed his version of it to her. Her fingers clasp her precious communicator to her heart as she must decide between safety and knowledge.

At last she lifts the device again. "Forgive me, Mr. Graham," she says miserably, knowing how absurd and even unhinged she will seem, but unable to prevent it. "This was foolish. I have been so worried...I dozed off in Sickbay and I... I suppose I had a nightmare. I am all right."

Ferguson's smug, satisfied gaze makes her stomach tighten with mistrust. A backup plan occurs to her in a flash. "But... it seemed very real. Could you please meet me near Sickbay in ten minutes? And if I am not there," she adds, her voice soft and pleading, "I do wish you would come find me. Please, sir, will you do that for me?"

Graham's halfway out of bed as Kylah speaks, grateful he's still fully clothed--well, not grateful in the sense that he'd prefer the current situation to being naked and entwined with present company, preferably on a tropical island somewhere...

Then he freezes and frowns. "Of course," he replies to her request, but then adds, "are you...sure...you're all right, Mr. Kylah?" he asks slowly and quietly. "I can be right there." His brow furrows as he runs through how long it would take him to reach engineering (assuming that's where she is), the standard emergency response times on this class of starship--he reminds himself to run drills first-hand, ASAP, now that he's ACOS, and the risks of intra-ship beaming.

He' still slowly rising to his feet as he waits for her response.

Nathaniel remembers that Rangin's spacesuit - orbital jumpsuit, he reminds himself - was taken from Sickbay by the Chief Engineer for study. The doctor checks Rangin's medical history and sees that he was exposed to a genetically-engineered virus on a Sakathian space station almost four months ago. The virus initially rendered him feverish and unconscious, but he'd then seemed to make a full recovery. Interestingly, Rangin's psi scores showed marked improvement afterwards, for reasons no one on the ship, or at Starfleet Medical, seems to have been able to figure out. The Coridanite medical database has nothing to explain his atypical response to tri-ox compound, or to indicate that an allergy might be the reason. A more intensive scan of Rangin does show unusual antibodies, apparently not Coridanite, in Rangin's bloodstream.

Her companion moves out from under Nia so quickly that, to avoid being knocked aside, she instinctively performs a sort of sideways, scuttling jump. Her ancient reptilian ancestors would be proud.

Sitting up in astonishment, Nia leans on her hand and stares at Booker. His side of the conversation doesn't help matters any. Seriously? Two seconds of Ensign Damsel-in-Distress's latest prattle and he's ready to race to her beck and call?

Even with a healthy ego and an impressive track record with men, Nia doesn't think she's the be-all and end-all at holding on to someone's attention. This is hardly the first time a guy's preferred the company of another woman.

But she sure as hell has never been tossed aside so quickly--and so (almost) literally.

Silent, she continues to listen and watch Booker, who appears to preparing to spring into action, muscles coiled and ready to strike out at whoever dared to accidentally brush against Milady Kylah.

Though Nia's face remains stonelike, her fingers on the bed tap an impatient and ominous rhythm with increasing pressure while she waits for Book to tell her just what the ever-loving fuck is wrong with the royal pain this time.

Kylah's teeth gnaw at her lower lip. It would be so comforting to know that Mr. Graham was on his way. Would it prevent Ferguson from harming her? Almost certainly.

Will it keep her from knowing, at last, what these loathsome men did to her back in her quarters? She eyes Ferguson, whose jaw muscles visibly clench, and she knows the answer all too well.

"Yes, I am sure," she mutters. "I should not have bothered you. It is just... I am disoriented, after the nightmare, it was so lifelike. The monster seemed very real." Her tone hardens with this last word, glaring at Ferguson. "I ran so quickly and now I do not recognize where I am. Except I know it is on Deck 8. This is such a large ship and I do not know it very well... "

The ridiculous explanation is galling, and Ferguson's grin does not help. Her attention sinks to the floor, too ashamed and furious to look at the man anymore. "But you will meet me? In ten minutes? And if I am missing... I am sure I will be fine, it is just... I would feel safer if I know you will be expecting me." Her voice falls to a whisper again. "I am sorry to be such trouble, sir."

Graham has been sure weird--bad weird--things had been happening to Ens. Kylah for some time. Some of which he felt like he was puzzling out.

Also, too, responsible for failing to prevent, he reminded himself.

But this was all the more weird. He glanced at Nia, wondering what she must be thinking, then took a deep breath and returned his attention to the communicator.

"That's what Security's here for," he replied gently but with assurance. "So everyone feels--and is--safe. Ten minutes, sharp, Mr. Kylah," he concludes.

He shakes his head and calculates how that lines up against his appointment with Cheverez. Then (assuming there's no further word from Kylah) sighs and says "I'm sorry Nia...duty calls, as they say," the latter part is a bit rueful, but the apology is backed by real regret.

Nathaniel's brows rise in curiosity at the revelation of the antibodies the scanner had found in Rangin's blood. Where they known or something new? Reaching for his well worn medikit, Nathaniel pulls out a hyposyringe and draws some of his patient's blood, with the intent on running it against everything in the Starfleet database to see if there was a match -- or at least another lead.

He feels like he is onto something. At last. Perhaps the virus never left his system, but instead has been dormant for all this time. As for the psi scores, maybe that was a side effect of the virus --- or had something to do with the odd antibodies. First Nathaniel has to find out what the antibodies were. In addition to running a full workup on the antibodies he'd discovered, Nathaniel takes another sample to put under the microscope. Perhaps a closer look could prove revelatory.

And there is one last thing. Nathaniel taps the communicator on his chest. "Sickbay to Engineering."

Rangin's medical history does mention the earlier-noted and continued presence of the antibodies. Nathaniel draws the blood twice without difficulty.

"Engineering," comes the reply. "Lt. Dahlquist here. May I help you?"

"Yes, so I heard," Nia says, smiling. "That particular duty--protecting Ensign Kylah--seems to call on you quite often." She pulls her wrap more securely around her and kneels on the bed, resting her hands in her lap. Every instinct to be arch or annoyed is clamped down on, hard, when she continues in a joking tone.

"Makes me wonder if she thinks that Security personnel--or maybe just you in particular--exist to be part of her personal entourage." Nia chuckles and adds, "Heck, maybe she's right... maybe that was the deal that enabled a member of Elasian royalty to join Starfleet. I'm living proof they're willing to make unusual allowances for non-Federation races."

She tilts her head, more serious now. "Is something wrong? Where is she, still on the planet?" Then, after the slightest pause: "...And what are you supposed to do in ten minutes?"

Mr. Graham's voice invests Kylah with some small measure of strength. She thanks him for his promise and shuts her communicator, holding it in both hands over her heart. Her gaze aims at Ferguson, burning with accusation and warning.

But his manner has relaxed. His arms are folded across his chest, and he wears a thin smile. "Nicely played. You're smarter than I gave you credit for, Princess."

"And you are more of a swine."

Ferguson shakes his head. "I can't believe how you address him. 'Sir' this and 'Sir' that. He's old, but he's an ensign. You should be showing that level of respect to me."

"He has earned it. You have not--quite the opposite." Kylah lowers her arms, though she does not return the communicator to her belt. She cannot risk letting go of this lifeline. As her free hand forms a white-fingered fist, she pushes her voice to be heard over the machinery.

"From the first moment we saw each other, you have not hidden your contempt. Why? Why are you obsessed with me? Why are you following me now? And... what you mentioned, about Mr. Zweller." Her face flames and she finds it difficult to voice the question. "How did he--in my quarters, what... what did--"

"What did Darren do to you?"

Kylah sucks in her lips until they are just a line. She nods.

Ferguson's smile holds not an ounce of warmth. "Well... as far as why I'm 'obsessed,' as you call it... you've made me genuinely curious. Started even before you got on board. Your, uh, unique career path was a pretty big talking point. First this non-Federation Elasian girl zips through the Academy so fast it's clear someone bought her a ticket to the front of the line. Then she's posted to a Constitution-class ship? Her very first assignment? Ridiculous. Crazy. Everyone wondered about it."

He lifts a hand, gesturing vaguely toward her. "News spreads fast. And once Darren got wind that you were headed for the Yorktown, he contacted me. And told me enough for me to learn just what a little piece of work you are."

Kylah ignores the insult and leaps on his earlier words. "Why did he contact you? How do you know him? You were not at the Academy with us." She narrows her eyes. "I am sure I would remember you."

"Flattering. Actually, no, I graduated a few years before you even joined. But Darren and I are related. Distant cousins, yeah, but we grew up together."

Kylah's lips curl in disgust. "I should have guessed you were family. Toxic fruit of the same poisonous tree."

"And who's your family?" Ferguson takes a few steps nearer, and Kylah must force herself not to back away. "Look what that cousin of yours did to one of the finest captains Starfleet has ever produced! Plus she caused a murder plot and pushed a man to commit suicide!" A bark of harsh laughter escapes him. "And you judge us. Knowing all that, I wasn't surprised when Darren told me who you were. And what you'd done to him."

"What I had done--"

"Leading him on, making him chase you, then slamming your legs shut only to attack him with those knives of yours. You embarrassed him. Darren Zweller, the top graduate of his class!" Ferguson's outraged tone suddenly drops to a near whisper, audible only because he is now so close. "Bad move, Princess. You had no idea who you were messing with."

Graham rubs his chin. "Ah, she's on the ship, but...upset about something, for sure. I'm supposed to meet her in ten." After a brief pause he adds, "I don't think she was telling me the whole story, by any means...maybe talking face to face will help.."

He shakes his head. "Maybe we ought to be more, uh, careful...helpful...with non-Federation races. I mean...you know how to handle yourself here, Nia." He frowns. "I don't think Kylah does. Don't think...maybe she didn't know at the Academy, either."

He sighs and reaches out to take one of Nia's hands in his. "I'm sorry to mess up our time together today."

Graham rubs his chin. "Ah, she's on the ship, but...upset about something, for sure. I'm supposed to meet her in ten." After a brief pause he adds, "I don't think she was telling me the whole story, by any means...maybe talking face to face will help.."

He shakes his head. "Maybe we ought to be more, uh, careful...helpful...with non-Federation races. I mean...you know how to handle yourself here, Nia." He frowns. "I don't think Kylah does. Don't think...maybe she didn't know at the Academy, either."

He sighs and reaches out to take one of Nia's hands in his. "I'm sorry to mess up our time together today."