Ported over from the old forum, with Katriel and Skyler. I've denoted who's posts are what!
Skyler wrote:
She hadn't been wrong. Save her from her hubris- no one here would- but she still held that she hadn't been wrong. If she'd been wrong, the Commodore would have said so. She'd made a mistake, yes, and it angered her, but the strategy wasn't her failing- the implementation had been. She should have formed them up tighter, forced her dominance. But no, they were KDF and indomitable, and her strategy failed for it-- no, that was a childish shirk of responsibility. She should have made it work, despite.
That failing was hers- in her command, not in them, not in the strategy. It had compromised the mission. If she'd had Quaen, it would not have happened. She needed Quaen. She didn't have the time to wait anymore.
That angered her, too. The idea that she had been waiting. Or maybe the idea of her needing someone. Regardless, she was angry. Angry since the operation's completion yesterday, since the alliance with Strike Force Kargas fell apart, but only now did she know what to do with it.
No more waiting.
She'd been tactically cautious in the past, tactical in a way that would not have suggested splitting up the strike team when time started closing in. Tactically choosing the timing of her sessions carefully, but, with an aggravating grain of guilt, she'd been risk adverse, too. There wasn't time for tactical anymore. Big risks, big gains? What wasn't she willing to risk? The answer made her angrier, and that galled her. No one's fault but her own.
When she chimed the Counselor's office- the rapier's sole rec room, converted since space on the Kvaedis was at a premium- she took down steadying breaths and worked her way laboriously through a song, trying to contain her roil of emotion. No need to make the betazoid's work harder.
“Counselor Sedai. If your appointments today are not dire, I....suggest..” It was not a suggestion. “...canceling them. The circumstances, ah, at this moment, are ideal.”
She didn't have to say why- the empath could no doubt sense her heightened emotion; restless, slow and hot beneath a cooled crust.
That failing was hers- in her command, not in them, not in the strategy. It had compromised the mission. If she'd had Quaen, it would not have happened. She needed Quaen. She didn't have the time to wait anymore.
That angered her, too. The idea that she had been waiting. Or maybe the idea of her needing someone. Regardless, she was angry. Angry since the operation's completion yesterday, since the alliance with Strike Force Kargas fell apart, but only now did she know what to do with it.
No more waiting.
She'd been tactically cautious in the past, tactical in a way that would not have suggested splitting up the strike team when time started closing in. Tactically choosing the timing of her sessions carefully, but, with an aggravating grain of guilt, she'd been risk adverse, too. There wasn't time for tactical anymore. Big risks, big gains? What wasn't she willing to risk? The answer made her angrier, and that galled her. No one's fault but her own.
When she chimed the Counselor's office- the rapier's sole rec room, converted since space on the Kvaedis was at a premium- she took down steadying breaths and worked her way laboriously through a song, trying to contain her roil of emotion. No need to make the betazoid's work harder.
“Counselor Sedai. If your appointments today are not dire, I....suggest..” It was not a suggestion. “...canceling them. The circumstances, ah, at this moment, are ideal.”
She didn't have to say why- the empath could no doubt sense her heightened emotion; restless, slow and hot beneath a cooled crust.
Quote:
“Our experiment on the interference of plasma feedback signatures on EPS modulation subroutines is going really well and Chief Jodahn seems pleased, but...”
“But?”
“Well, Lieutenant Bolinksy is just really vocal about her opinions and I don’t think it’s right the way she questions the Chief at every turn, especially in front of the other staff. Like you’d never question the Captain’s orders, cause she’s the Captain, you know? But Bolinsky just has to get her hands on everything and she’s so insufferably self-righteous that I just wish …”
Katriel took her patient’s measure as he fell silent for the second time. For the most part, Lieutenant Evans seemed to be mostly back to his old, chatty self, if only during their counseling sessions when he felt truly free to open up. As far as she could tell, Evans’s subdued state persisted outside of her office in the presence of beings he either didn’t know well or subconsciously perceived as aggressive. This Bolinsky character, for instance, had apparently turned the engineering department upside down and been a target for Evans’s inexpressible ire for quite some time now.
“You wish you could say what you think to her directly?” Katriel prompted, when the lieutenant failed to continue. Evans’s expression turned vaguely miserable, knowing this was territory they had covered before.
“You’re making a good deal of progress, Lieutenant,” the counselor hastened to reassure him. “Do not feel dejected by what you perceive as a lack of courage. Confidence in social situations can only be had by practice or hubris, and you don’t want the latter. Perhaps we should considering holding our next session in a hologrid and -- “
“Counselor Sedai. If your appointments today are not dire, I.... suggest canceling them. The circumstances, ah, at this moment, are ideal.”
The counselor and lieutenant exchanged glances. Speaking of not questioning the Captain’s orders.
“We were almost done anyway, Counselor.” Lieutenant Evans hastened to his feet. “I’ll ah... contact you about my next appointment tomorrow, is that all right?”
“That would be appreciated, thank you, Lieutenant,” the counselor had started to busy herself with preparation, stacking PADDs and cancelling her remaining appointments. Evans nodded, not that Katriel was watching, and dismissed himself.
Space cleared in more ways than one, Katriel made her way to the equipment cabinet to fetch out a medkit. She didn’t approve of the Captain’s choice, made with her angry energy, rather than with cautious consideration. In fact, she was uncertain of the sense in pursuing this venture at all, when it had to be initiated with principally negative feeling. Katriel was hardly superstitious, but as a betazoid, she tended to trust in her gut. What sort of omen was it when the channel of communication between two entities could only be opened through anger or fear?
The counselor loaded a dram of psilosynine suppressant and loaded into a hypospray. This stuff made her betazoid senses dull and useless for approximately sixteen hours and though she had played with the dosage, she eventually had to conclude that this was the level of reduced potency that would still allow her to communicate with Skyler’s symbiont, who continued to have very little regard for the safety of any potential receptors.
At least, Katriel injected herself with a grimace, I do not have to figure out how to make the Captain angry myself this time.
Small comfort that was.
“But?”
“Well, Lieutenant Bolinksy is just really vocal about her opinions and I don’t think it’s right the way she questions the Chief at every turn, especially in front of the other staff. Like you’d never question the Captain’s orders, cause she’s the Captain, you know? But Bolinsky just has to get her hands on everything and she’s so insufferably self-righteous that I just wish …”
Katriel took her patient’s measure as he fell silent for the second time. For the most part, Lieutenant Evans seemed to be mostly back to his old, chatty self, if only during their counseling sessions when he felt truly free to open up. As far as she could tell, Evans’s subdued state persisted outside of her office in the presence of beings he either didn’t know well or subconsciously perceived as aggressive. This Bolinsky character, for instance, had apparently turned the engineering department upside down and been a target for Evans’s inexpressible ire for quite some time now.
“You wish you could say what you think to her directly?” Katriel prompted, when the lieutenant failed to continue. Evans’s expression turned vaguely miserable, knowing this was territory they had covered before.
“You’re making a good deal of progress, Lieutenant,” the counselor hastened to reassure him. “Do not feel dejected by what you perceive as a lack of courage. Confidence in social situations can only be had by practice or hubris, and you don’t want the latter. Perhaps we should considering holding our next session in a hologrid and -- “
“Counselor Sedai. If your appointments today are not dire, I.... suggest canceling them. The circumstances, ah, at this moment, are ideal.”
The counselor and lieutenant exchanged glances. Speaking of not questioning the Captain’s orders.
“We were almost done anyway, Counselor.” Lieutenant Evans hastened to his feet. “I’ll ah... contact you about my next appointment tomorrow, is that all right?”
“That would be appreciated, thank you, Lieutenant,” the counselor had started to busy herself with preparation, stacking PADDs and cancelling her remaining appointments. Evans nodded, not that Katriel was watching, and dismissed himself.
Space cleared in more ways than one, Katriel made her way to the equipment cabinet to fetch out a medkit. She didn’t approve of the Captain’s choice, made with her angry energy, rather than with cautious consideration. In fact, she was uncertain of the sense in pursuing this venture at all, when it had to be initiated with principally negative feeling. Katriel was hardly superstitious, but as a betazoid, she tended to trust in her gut. What sort of omen was it when the channel of communication between two entities could only be opened through anger or fear?
The counselor loaded a dram of psilosynine suppressant and loaded into a hypospray. This stuff made her betazoid senses dull and useless for approximately sixteen hours and though she had played with the dosage, she eventually had to conclude that this was the level of reduced potency that would still allow her to communicate with Skyler’s symbiont, who continued to have very little regard for the safety of any potential receptors.
At least, Katriel injected herself with a grimace, I do not have to figure out how to make the Captain angry myself this time.
Small comfort that was.
Skyler wrote:
Guilt set in when she realized that she'd disturbed a session in progress, twofold when it was Lieutenant Evans.
"..ah..thank you, Lieutenant. My apologies for interrupting."
The young man saluted, circled past her and opened his mouth-- there was another pang of guilt for her inward, reflexive grimace.
"Oh, it's not a problem, Captain. We were just about done anyway. Good luck with your symbiont. Everyone's waiting to find out how it goes, not that it's going to go anyway but good--" All spoken as he paced backwards down the hall.
Grimace manifested in a short nod that cut him off, saving them both of them from awkwardness. She didn't want to deal with him. She didn't want to lose the anger that was already slipping away.
"..thank you, Lieutenant."
He turned around the corner, and Skyler stepped inside. She apologized there too, and it occured to her, as she asked the polite follow up of, "How..is he doing?", that she didn't really know what was happening on her ship. She didn't even know Evans was still in counseling. Perhaps he needed to take a personal lesson from the counselor-immune Dev, in addition to the engineering ones. How was Dev doing..? She didn't know.
Her duties as a squadron commander, her duties on Defera ground, her personal matters, had all but pushed her crew from her mind. With her temporary command, her ship suffered. There, another kind of anger. Fix on that.
She couldn't help a smirk for the irony. That she was clinging to it now, this useless, clouding emotion she'd spent years learning to repress.
The captain took a place on one of the couches, edged in the corner out of habit.
"On Doctor Rezadi's supposition, I've been given a booster shot of isoboramine. Levels are normal for a standard joining, but, ah, given the complications of my joining... She's elevated them about ten percent higher than usual. It should...hopefuly... have a positive effect..and...in turn..."
She watched as the betazoid self-administered herself, pushing down the concern.
"...make things easier on you."
The counselor had volunteered. It was a small ill to suffer for the possibility of a much greater gain. It was her job, yes, but Chassy couldn't thank the woman enough for the opportunity to reach her full potential.
"...thank you, again."
"..ah..thank you, Lieutenant. My apologies for interrupting."
The young man saluted, circled past her and opened his mouth-- there was another pang of guilt for her inward, reflexive grimace.
"Oh, it's not a problem, Captain. We were just about done anyway. Good luck with your symbiont. Everyone's waiting to find out how it goes, not that it's going to go anyway but good--" All spoken as he paced backwards down the hall.
Grimace manifested in a short nod that cut him off, saving them both of them from awkwardness. She didn't want to deal with him. She didn't want to lose the anger that was already slipping away.
"..thank you, Lieutenant."
He turned around the corner, and Skyler stepped inside. She apologized there too, and it occured to her, as she asked the polite follow up of, "How..is he doing?", that she didn't really know what was happening on her ship. She didn't even know Evans was still in counseling. Perhaps he needed to take a personal lesson from the counselor-immune Dev, in addition to the engineering ones. How was Dev doing..? She didn't know.
Her duties as a squadron commander, her duties on Defera ground, her personal matters, had all but pushed her crew from her mind. With her temporary command, her ship suffered. There, another kind of anger. Fix on that.
She couldn't help a smirk for the irony. That she was clinging to it now, this useless, clouding emotion she'd spent years learning to repress.
The captain took a place on one of the couches, edged in the corner out of habit.
"On Doctor Rezadi's supposition, I've been given a booster shot of isoboramine. Levels are normal for a standard joining, but, ah, given the complications of my joining... She's elevated them about ten percent higher than usual. It should...hopefuly... have a positive effect..and...in turn..."
She watched as the betazoid self-administered herself, pushing down the concern.
"...make things easier on you."
The counselor had volunteered. It was a small ill to suffer for the possibility of a much greater gain. It was her job, yes, but Chassy couldn't thank the woman enough for the opportunity to reach her full potential.
"...thank you, again."
Katriel wrote:
Katriel didn’t even need her quickly dulling senses to recognize Skyler’s flagging spirits.
“Liutenant Evans is progressing nicely,” the counselor’s tone was casual as she packed up the medkit. “I must admit I was originally concerned that he would suffer enduring trauma, but he’s surprised me by coping so well. On the whole, I think he’ll come out improved.”
She left the medkit closed on her desk and paced forward, seating herself on the couch, opposite the captain. For a moment, she simply studied the antsy Trill woman.
“Normally I would ask what you’re so infuriated over, but I suppose this is an opportunity you’d rather not waste. Let’s just … “ she exhaled a breath, “... see if Quaen has anything to say.”
The counselor braced her palms against the couch cushions, fingers flexing, as she focused on the Captain. While line of sight was not strictly necessary for attempting to read someone so physically close, Katriel felt the exercise useful while under the effects of the suppressant.
So she set her calm eyes on Skyler and voiced a mental, >Hello?<
“Liutenant Evans is progressing nicely,” the counselor’s tone was casual as she packed up the medkit. “I must admit I was originally concerned that he would suffer enduring trauma, but he’s surprised me by coping so well. On the whole, I think he’ll come out improved.”
She left the medkit closed on her desk and paced forward, seating herself on the couch, opposite the captain. For a moment, she simply studied the antsy Trill woman.
“Normally I would ask what you’re so infuriated over, but I suppose this is an opportunity you’d rather not waste. Let’s just … “ she exhaled a breath, “... see if Quaen has anything to say.”
The counselor braced her palms against the couch cushions, fingers flexing, as she focused on the Captain. While line of sight was not strictly necessary for attempting to read someone so physically close, Katriel felt the exercise useful while under the effects of the suppressant.
So she set her calm eyes on Skyler and voiced a mental, >Hello?<
Skyler wrote:
"That's...good to hear... Human resilience is...one of their best aspects.” It was very good, and she wondered how out of bounds it would be to let Shellar know as much. The captain closed her eyes as the counselor prepared herself-- it was uncomfortable, being stared at, and she already felt the heated prickle of a blush. This was easier, in the dark.
Skyler nodded as the counselor continued, and took down a breath of her own.
“...normally, I'd, ah, be reluctant to answer.”
It was...hard to stay angry while cautious about lashing out unkindly towards the undeserving counselor, and the very act of self-monitoring served to dampen the emotion. It was easier to fan a fire than control it. But still, she managed to keep her voice even and un-edged:
“Counseling... it's always felt so...one sided. It's, uhm, I understand the necessity and the... usefulness..but...that someone's job is to listen and care...has never..sat well with me.”
>Hello?<
She heard it, and she heard the silence after. Quaen wasn't answering. Quaen had to answer. Get angrier. Be angrier.
“Have...I told you...about why I joined Argo?” Of course she hadn't, but she wasn't about to say, 'let me bare my soul while I try to piss myself off.'
“It was only a, ah, month after Captain Cavo was- ..after I received command. I kept waiting...for the Ninth Fleet to assign a new captain, but, uhm, they didn't.”
If Skyler's mental state was natural darkness- the blue-black-purple behind her eyelids- then the flicker of symbiont consciousness was a speck of candlelight barely glowing through. Faint, uncertain, perilously close to snuffing out again. It wasn't a greeting, but more like a blind shift towards an unfamiliar sound. The host herself didn't seem to notice, and continued her uneasy rambling.
“I'd....thought we'd been forgotten, that..we weren't important enough as a recommissioned rapier class,”
A flare of anger there. Skyler gathered it and focused.
“So I, um, applied for a transfer to Task Force Argo...I...didn't expect to get in. Argo's a legend, why would they take a fresh acting captain in an old ship? I'd...I'd only thought 'this will make someone notice... get someone to fix it,' and I could go back to...ah, to taking my time, learning carefully and thoroughly.”
Indignation that the situation- that people- kept pushing her to do things outside of what she knew. For the unfairness of it, there was a seed of begrudging, a seed that the rational mind had dismissed a long time ago, that Skyler now rooted up and nursed.
“..my first day, my first day in Task Force Argo, the Kvaedis was to pick up supplies from Drozana and report to K-7. ...I failed that assignment.”
Failure was a very angry thing indeed, moreso for the weight of the lives on her conscience.
“Docked at Drozana- you've...probably heard about this incident from crew- was Strike Force Kargas. Riles and Wrot'Ka, a few others..."
From the candlelight came projections: tiny, terrified flashes of an unfamiliar scene in sharp, detailed pulses. A purge of emotion, as if sharing it would make its poignancy lessen. Drozana. The imposing figure of Wrot'ka. The overwhelming noise.
Mere recollection, to the Captain. Skyler had to get angrier. Her symbiont had to wake up.
“He...the Gorn, he set fire to a ferengi, just..because he could. A stupidly simple contraption that got past their security-- ...I...was foolish, brash. I didn't have...any idea what I was up against, and I didn't have any of the instincts of a captain. I challenged him...and...it turned into a fleet-large incident.”
The scorch of the ferengi's clothes as she and the Orion put him out, the smell of the gorn's hissed breath as she stood before him. The justified rage over what he'd done. Vivid memories, to Skyler. Beneath them, beneath her and her captain's notice- for a captain would not acknowledge it- was fear. It brought a dizzy, unnerving, uncanny sensation, like that which incites a mother's dread at a child's nearby wailing.
The candlelight went out, drawing away from the unpleasant fervor. Skyler's story faltered, but she did not attribute the cause to anything but her own awkwardness for the monologue.
“I...ah...wrote a letter for the families of every..every Starfleet personnel that died in the Drozana incident... I...only sent the ones for my crew. What...family wants to hear condolences from the person who caused it? I-... had been... successfully goaded into a worthless fight.
“After... no one blamed me. Stars, I wish they had. ...but..I suppose... because no one blamed me, I knew I couldn't just keep waiting for someone to replace me. I was the Kvaedis's captain, I had to act like it.
“Everything since then...I've done my best, Counselor.”
The captain straightened out with a sigh for the failed start to their session, as far as she perceived, and snapped open green eyes to match Betazoid black.
“I've gotten this far just on my best, and maybe that's... maybe that's noteworthy....but my best is increasingly not good enough. ...I need Quaen.”
Skyler nodded as the counselor continued, and took down a breath of her own.
“...normally, I'd, ah, be reluctant to answer.”
It was...hard to stay angry while cautious about lashing out unkindly towards the undeserving counselor, and the very act of self-monitoring served to dampen the emotion. It was easier to fan a fire than control it. But still, she managed to keep her voice even and un-edged:
“Counseling... it's always felt so...one sided. It's, uhm, I understand the necessity and the... usefulness..but...that someone's job is to listen and care...has never..sat well with me.”
>Hello?<
She heard it, and she heard the silence after. Quaen wasn't answering. Quaen had to answer. Get angrier. Be angrier.
“Have...I told you...about why I joined Argo?” Of course she hadn't, but she wasn't about to say, 'let me bare my soul while I try to piss myself off.'
“It was only a, ah, month after Captain Cavo was- ..after I received command. I kept waiting...for the Ninth Fleet to assign a new captain, but, uhm, they didn't.”
If Skyler's mental state was natural darkness- the blue-black-purple behind her eyelids- then the flicker of symbiont consciousness was a speck of candlelight barely glowing through. Faint, uncertain, perilously close to snuffing out again. It wasn't a greeting, but more like a blind shift towards an unfamiliar sound. The host herself didn't seem to notice, and continued her uneasy rambling.
“I'd....thought we'd been forgotten, that..we weren't important enough as a recommissioned rapier class,”
A flare of anger there. Skyler gathered it and focused.
“So I, um, applied for a transfer to Task Force Argo...I...didn't expect to get in. Argo's a legend, why would they take a fresh acting captain in an old ship? I'd...I'd only thought 'this will make someone notice... get someone to fix it,' and I could go back to...ah, to taking my time, learning carefully and thoroughly.”
Indignation that the situation- that people- kept pushing her to do things outside of what she knew. For the unfairness of it, there was a seed of begrudging, a seed that the rational mind had dismissed a long time ago, that Skyler now rooted up and nursed.
“..my first day, my first day in Task Force Argo, the Kvaedis was to pick up supplies from Drozana and report to K-7. ...I failed that assignment.”
Failure was a very angry thing indeed, moreso for the weight of the lives on her conscience.
“Docked at Drozana- you've...probably heard about this incident from crew- was Strike Force Kargas. Riles and Wrot'Ka, a few others..."
From the candlelight came projections: tiny, terrified flashes of an unfamiliar scene in sharp, detailed pulses. A purge of emotion, as if sharing it would make its poignancy lessen. Drozana. The imposing figure of Wrot'ka. The overwhelming noise.
Mere recollection, to the Captain. Skyler had to get angrier. Her symbiont had to wake up.
“He...the Gorn, he set fire to a ferengi, just..because he could. A stupidly simple contraption that got past their security-- ...I...was foolish, brash. I didn't have...any idea what I was up against, and I didn't have any of the instincts of a captain. I challenged him...and...it turned into a fleet-large incident.”
The scorch of the ferengi's clothes as she and the Orion put him out, the smell of the gorn's hissed breath as she stood before him. The justified rage over what he'd done. Vivid memories, to Skyler. Beneath them, beneath her and her captain's notice- for a captain would not acknowledge it- was fear. It brought a dizzy, unnerving, uncanny sensation, like that which incites a mother's dread at a child's nearby wailing.
The candlelight went out, drawing away from the unpleasant fervor. Skyler's story faltered, but she did not attribute the cause to anything but her own awkwardness for the monologue.
“I...ah...wrote a letter for the families of every..every Starfleet personnel that died in the Drozana incident... I...only sent the ones for my crew. What...family wants to hear condolences from the person who caused it? I-... had been... successfully goaded into a worthless fight.
“After... no one blamed me. Stars, I wish they had. ...but..I suppose... because no one blamed me, I knew I couldn't just keep waiting for someone to replace me. I was the Kvaedis's captain, I had to act like it.
“Everything since then...I've done my best, Counselor.”
The captain straightened out with a sigh for the failed start to their session, as far as she perceived, and snapped open green eyes to match Betazoid black.
“I've gotten this far just on my best, and maybe that's... maybe that's noteworthy....but my best is increasingly not good enough. ...I need Quaen.”
Katriel wrote:
The counselor was frowning.
Truth be told, it was a relatively foreign expression for her and her highly compartmentalized Betazoid sensibilities. She typically only permitted herself to be, at the very worst, completely disinterested. But there was some sort of puzzle here, some clue, some answer. Katriel had tried to engage the flickering consciousness entrenched within, but the Captain’s negative emotion had driven it away this time, instead of drawing it out.
She had been wrong, then. It wasn’t anger or fear, it was just anger. Why? What is the difference between anger and fear? Fight or flight? Chemically, they were closely related. Katriel took a breath and channeled her inner Vulcan. Step through it logically.
Fear… drives sentients towards survival. Or it paralyzes them into inaction. Fear is primitive, it flourishes in ignorance and uncertainty. Fear is selfish. One does not choose to flee; they are forced to when they’re up against something that is so much more powerful or foreign that the chances of winning are slim to none.
Anger... is more complicated. It’s also a driving force, but not for mere survival. Anger is about defensiveness, of territory and personal belongings, or of loved ones, or of justice or pride. Anger is never paralytic; it’s a call to action. One chooses to fight because something of perceived greater value than one’s own life is at stake.
So the symbiont responded to the Captain’s anger, because anger is... a social construct? A catalyst? An awakening?
Does it have to be the Captain’s anger? the thought flitted through and completely derailed the counselor’s train of thought.
“Counselor?” Skyer’s voice broke through her introspection. Katriel blinked at the captain, who may or may not have already called her a few times without her hearing. Oops.
“My apologies, Captain. I was … thinking.” The counselor inhaled a steadying breath and outlined what she had noticed during the captain’s recollection. Then, while Skyler was still digesting, she continued.
“Captain, with your permission, I’d like to attempt to contact your symbiont while angry. I mean, while I’m angry. Out of scientific curiousity.”
Truth be told, it was a relatively foreign expression for her and her highly compartmentalized Betazoid sensibilities. She typically only permitted herself to be, at the very worst, completely disinterested. But there was some sort of puzzle here, some clue, some answer. Katriel had tried to engage the flickering consciousness entrenched within, but the Captain’s negative emotion had driven it away this time, instead of drawing it out.
She had been wrong, then. It wasn’t anger or fear, it was just anger. Why? What is the difference between anger and fear? Fight or flight? Chemically, they were closely related. Katriel took a breath and channeled her inner Vulcan. Step through it logically.
Fear… drives sentients towards survival. Or it paralyzes them into inaction. Fear is primitive, it flourishes in ignorance and uncertainty. Fear is selfish. One does not choose to flee; they are forced to when they’re up against something that is so much more powerful or foreign that the chances of winning are slim to none.
Anger... is more complicated. It’s also a driving force, but not for mere survival. Anger is about defensiveness, of territory and personal belongings, or of loved ones, or of justice or pride. Anger is never paralytic; it’s a call to action. One chooses to fight because something of perceived greater value than one’s own life is at stake.
So the symbiont responded to the Captain’s anger, because anger is... a social construct? A catalyst? An awakening?
Does it have to be the Captain’s anger? the thought flitted through and completely derailed the counselor’s train of thought.
“Counselor?” Skyer’s voice broke through her introspection. Katriel blinked at the captain, who may or may not have already called her a few times without her hearing. Oops.
“My apologies, Captain. I was … thinking.” The counselor inhaled a steadying breath and outlined what she had noticed during the captain’s recollection. Then, while Skyler was still digesting, she continued.
“Captain, with your permission, I’d like to attempt to contact your symbiont while angry. I mean, while I’m angry. Out of scientific curiousity.”
Katriel wrote:
At the Captain’s befuddled nod of permission, Katriel let out a small sigh. Now for the hard part: getting angry.
While Katriel privately believed that she generally had an exceptionally strong rein on her emotional state, she still didn’t exactly have an on-off switch for triggering one emotion or another. She didn’t think it would be acceptable just to act angry, either; telepathic transmission was frequently too intimate for that sort of trickery. Besides, Katriel had no practice at acting angry.
So, for better or worse, she would have to approach the problem in the same way the Captain had. Think of something that makes you angry and focus on it.
Well, there was Skyler sitting there, with some very faint vestiges of ire clinging to her. Even with her dulled senses, Katriel could remember some of Skyler’s original rage with reasonable clarity. That was a start.
What has made me angry, recently? Katriel thought to herself, trying to recall the week’s events, aware that her captain was watching her expression with some skepticism.
Fairy was being a perfectly amiable feline, having neither broken or scratched up anything. Katriel had conducted five appointments yesterday. All of them had gone relatively smoothly, no hiccups to report. And today she had met with Lieutenant Evans who was always a little bit trying, but they had had a brief and seemingly productive conversation about his troubles with Bolinsky and his loyalty to Chief Jodahn and --
The counselor immediately identified the flicker of annoyance that crept up at the remembered officer. There. If anyone on this ship drives me up the wall, it’s him.
Katriel suppressed a grim smile as the most recent altercation surfaced out of memory like a suddenly remembered dream. She had just returned from her temporary posting on Risa and had gone to Skyler’s bunk to retrieve her cat, but was then surprised when Skyler informed her that Dev had taken over the duty of cat-sitting.
With some trepidation, Katriel visited his quarters and gravely thanked the absent-minded chief engineer. Then, when she had noticed his state of preoccupation, out of gratitude for his unexpected favor, she had asked if there was anything she could do. Instead of the truce she was hoping the offer might achieve, Jodahn’s expression had flattened and she had almost physically reeled back at the strength of his sudden mental shields. Though he had then voiced a polite decline of her services, she knew the truth of it: no way, no how, Go Away. So she did.
Katriel understood the reasoning behind Dev’s dislike for her, she really did. But the understanding did hardly anything to lessen the feeling of unfairness that crept over her whenever she considered their circumstances. When it came to running the ship, the two of them could play at civility and no one the wiser. But the truth was that Chief Jodahn had never really forgiven her for being the face of the Starfleet that had nearly barred him from continuing his career.
It’s not fair, Katriel silently griped. I was just doing my job. I wasn’t the one with the spotty service record. And I gave him a fair evaluation, didn’t I? He’s the chief engineer of the Kvaedis, just like he wanted. But I’m still a threat to him, no matter how much I keep my distance. He shouldn’t be making ME into the villain. An officer at HIS age and rank (okay, that might be a little low) should know better, should be more open-minded, shouldn’t judge me for just doing what I was supposed to. I’M not the evil one here, I just wanted to do what was RIGHT.
What’s worse, she realized, was that she continued to let the Chief push her away. She never confronted him, never tried harder to make amends. It was so easy to dole out counseling, not so easy to take it herself. How hypocritical I am, allowing things to deteriorate like this.
Katriel tried to even out her breathing, having only just realized that it had become a little rougher. She recognized, from her circular thought pattern and sudden petulant feeling, that she was definitely Feeling Angry now.
Well, no one ever said anger was rational.
The counselor wielded her fury like a laser and attempted to focus it to the task at hand. Her not-so-calm eyes zeroed in on Skyler’s startled ones. This time, her mental prod was a fair bit less tentative.
>QUAEN. WAKE UP, QUAEN. SAY SOMETHING.<
While Katriel privately believed that she generally had an exceptionally strong rein on her emotional state, she still didn’t exactly have an on-off switch for triggering one emotion or another. She didn’t think it would be acceptable just to act angry, either; telepathic transmission was frequently too intimate for that sort of trickery. Besides, Katriel had no practice at acting angry.
So, for better or worse, she would have to approach the problem in the same way the Captain had. Think of something that makes you angry and focus on it.
Well, there was Skyler sitting there, with some very faint vestiges of ire clinging to her. Even with her dulled senses, Katriel could remember some of Skyler’s original rage with reasonable clarity. That was a start.
What has made me angry, recently? Katriel thought to herself, trying to recall the week’s events, aware that her captain was watching her expression with some skepticism.
Fairy was being a perfectly amiable feline, having neither broken or scratched up anything. Katriel had conducted five appointments yesterday. All of them had gone relatively smoothly, no hiccups to report. And today she had met with Lieutenant Evans who was always a little bit trying, but they had had a brief and seemingly productive conversation about his troubles with Bolinsky and his loyalty to Chief Jodahn and --
The counselor immediately identified the flicker of annoyance that crept up at the remembered officer. There. If anyone on this ship drives me up the wall, it’s him.
Katriel suppressed a grim smile as the most recent altercation surfaced out of memory like a suddenly remembered dream. She had just returned from her temporary posting on Risa and had gone to Skyler’s bunk to retrieve her cat, but was then surprised when Skyler informed her that Dev had taken over the duty of cat-sitting.
With some trepidation, Katriel visited his quarters and gravely thanked the absent-minded chief engineer. Then, when she had noticed his state of preoccupation, out of gratitude for his unexpected favor, she had asked if there was anything she could do. Instead of the truce she was hoping the offer might achieve, Jodahn’s expression had flattened and she had almost physically reeled back at the strength of his sudden mental shields. Though he had then voiced a polite decline of her services, she knew the truth of it: no way, no how, Go Away. So she did.
Katriel understood the reasoning behind Dev’s dislike for her, she really did. But the understanding did hardly anything to lessen the feeling of unfairness that crept over her whenever she considered their circumstances. When it came to running the ship, the two of them could play at civility and no one the wiser. But the truth was that Chief Jodahn had never really forgiven her for being the face of the Starfleet that had nearly barred him from continuing his career.
It’s not fair, Katriel silently griped. I was just doing my job. I wasn’t the one with the spotty service record. And I gave him a fair evaluation, didn’t I? He’s the chief engineer of the Kvaedis, just like he wanted. But I’m still a threat to him, no matter how much I keep my distance. He shouldn’t be making ME into the villain. An officer at HIS age and rank (okay, that might be a little low) should know better, should be more open-minded, shouldn’t judge me for just doing what I was supposed to. I’M not the evil one here, I just wanted to do what was RIGHT.
What’s worse, she realized, was that she continued to let the Chief push her away. She never confronted him, never tried harder to make amends. It was so easy to dole out counseling, not so easy to take it herself. How hypocritical I am, allowing things to deteriorate like this.
Katriel tried to even out her breathing, having only just realized that it had become a little rougher. She recognized, from her circular thought pattern and sudden petulant feeling, that she was definitely Feeling Angry now.
Well, no one ever said anger was rational.
The counselor wielded her fury like a laser and attempted to focus it to the task at hand. Her not-so-calm eyes zeroed in on Skyler’s startled ones. This time, her mental prod was a fair bit less tentative.
>QUAEN. WAKE UP, QUAEN. SAY SOMETHING.<
Skyler wrote:
The counselor's hypothesis that Quaen responded only to anger...would be such a pathetic hilarity. Were it true, she'd been inadvertently cutting off her chances for years. Every sharp comment bitten back and swallowed. Every curled fist flexed and forgotten. Every argument she stalked away from wordlessly. Was each instance an opportunity to reach the very thing that was causal to most of her frustrations? She liked to think she'd become quite good at controlling her emotion, but not that good. She'd still gotten angry numerous times, recently even– and how- but she hadn't noticed anything from the symbiont.
Still. If anything, these sessions were exploratory. If the counselor thought it worthwhile to investigate, then...at worst, the effort would be wasted time.
She nodded to Katriel.
The transformation that overtook the betazoid over the next handful of seconds was...extremely interesting to watch. Skyler's skepticism faded, if only to make room for her attentive observation.
Here was a woman that the captain thought she knew- knew well enough for crew, anyway- and here she was wearing a look that Skyler had never witnessed, nor imagined. What could cause an emotionally balanced individual- one who's career was to fashion stoic distance between herself and her patients- to make a face like that? She wanted to know, but...it was none of her business.
>QUAEN. WAKE UP, QUAEN. SAY SOMETHING.<
The captain flinched. There's a difference between hearing someone snap at you with your ears and hearing it inside your head.
And...there- there- her eyes widened. She felt that, the symbiont stirring. A sensation- a sense. A question? The sense of a question. Foggy, but definite.
To Skyler, this was new but natural. Hosts and symbionts often didn't 'speak' to each other so much as relay the gist of thought. That was what enabled most hosts to meld personalities- it wasn't two people talking together inside their heads so much as two entities sharing a state of being in terms of past states of being. Like offering yellow and blue to describe green. This was her first—her first contact with Quaen-- and she desperatly punched down the excitement in an effort to keep from upsetting the variables of the experiment. Say, do, think, nothing. She poured her every thought into the lyrics of a song, visualized and paraded across her closing eyelids.
Two entities sharing one state of being... but this state was...Skyler didn't know. It felt..drugged? Nonchalant. The song focus slipped away without her even noticing. Shouldn't Quaen be as euphoric as she was trying not to be? Didn't the symbiont know how much she wanted it to wake up, needed it to. The damned thing should be trying at least as hard as she's been! Ten years. She'd been waiting nearly ten years. The least it could do it say something!
Instead, it regarded the sharp, angry call with the indifference of...of...of a cat that can't be bothered to look up when you call it, and if it weren't for the twitch of an ear, you'd think it was asleep.
..but how would she know that? Fairy was only in her care for...half a day, at best, and spent the entire time sulking- plotting. What.
She did know. Of course she knew, she'd grown up with cats. No, Ysra grew up with-- tumbling experiences pounded and she struggled to keep up. There were three cats, two birds, a Hevulian tortoise, and a dog, but the dog was Bejed's. Quaen liked pets, they'd always had pets until Jilkin- Jilkin didn't care for cleaning up fur, and even though his son Jilon- she'd seen Jilon before in her dreaming- had begged him, Jilkin said...Jilkin. Jilkin...Jilkin had...oh no Jilken- Sins of the sons-- she couldn't keep up.
“--nng.” And the captain fainted.
To the betazoid's voyeur mind, the symbiont shared a perplexed, disbelieving review of its current reality. A disorienting cloud of confusion, jumbled thoughts, memories, sensations, a mess of timeline continuation. It groped over these incoherent emotional 'states' like flipping through a stack of memory chips until it found the 'here and now'. Finally, as it also found the right way to communicate, a laborious thought voiced, rather than shared, its overreaction:
“Oh no, I've killed her.”
Still. If anything, these sessions were exploratory. If the counselor thought it worthwhile to investigate, then...at worst, the effort would be wasted time.
She nodded to Katriel.
The transformation that overtook the betazoid over the next handful of seconds was...extremely interesting to watch. Skyler's skepticism faded, if only to make room for her attentive observation.
Here was a woman that the captain thought she knew- knew well enough for crew, anyway- and here she was wearing a look that Skyler had never witnessed, nor imagined. What could cause an emotionally balanced individual- one who's career was to fashion stoic distance between herself and her patients- to make a face like that? She wanted to know, but...it was none of her business.
>QUAEN. WAKE UP, QUAEN. SAY SOMETHING.<
The captain flinched. There's a difference between hearing someone snap at you with your ears and hearing it inside your head.
And...there- there- her eyes widened. She felt that, the symbiont stirring. A sensation- a sense. A question? The sense of a question. Foggy, but definite.
To Skyler, this was new but natural. Hosts and symbionts often didn't 'speak' to each other so much as relay the gist of thought. That was what enabled most hosts to meld personalities- it wasn't two people talking together inside their heads so much as two entities sharing a state of being in terms of past states of being. Like offering yellow and blue to describe green. This was her first—her first contact with Quaen-- and she desperatly punched down the excitement in an effort to keep from upsetting the variables of the experiment. Say, do, think, nothing. She poured her every thought into the lyrics of a song, visualized and paraded across her closing eyelids.
Two entities sharing one state of being... but this state was...Skyler didn't know. It felt..drugged? Nonchalant. The song focus slipped away without her even noticing. Shouldn't Quaen be as euphoric as she was trying not to be? Didn't the symbiont know how much she wanted it to wake up, needed it to. The damned thing should be trying at least as hard as she's been! Ten years. She'd been waiting nearly ten years. The least it could do it say something!
Instead, it regarded the sharp, angry call with the indifference of...of...of a cat that can't be bothered to look up when you call it, and if it weren't for the twitch of an ear, you'd think it was asleep.
..but how would she know that? Fairy was only in her care for...half a day, at best, and spent the entire time sulking- plotting. What.
She did know. Of course she knew, she'd grown up with cats. No, Ysra grew up with-- tumbling experiences pounded and she struggled to keep up. There were three cats, two birds, a Hevulian tortoise, and a dog, but the dog was Bejed's. Quaen liked pets, they'd always had pets until Jilkin- Jilkin didn't care for cleaning up fur, and even though his son Jilon- she'd seen Jilon before in her dreaming- had begged him, Jilkin said...Jilkin. Jilkin...Jilkin had...oh no Jilken- Sins of the sons-- she couldn't keep up.
“--nng.” And the captain fainted.
To the betazoid's voyeur mind, the symbiont shared a perplexed, disbelieving review of its current reality. A disorienting cloud of confusion, jumbled thoughts, memories, sensations, a mess of timeline continuation. It groped over these incoherent emotional 'states' like flipping through a stack of memory chips until it found the 'here and now'. Finally, as it also found the right way to communicate, a laborious thought voiced, rather than shared, its overreaction:
“Oh no, I've killed her.”
Katriel wrote:
To be frank, Katriel wanted to do nothing more than copy the Captain’s example. Her head was pounding from the imagery assault. The suppressant kept it at the just barely tolerable level, at least, but it was likely that the counselor would want to sleep for a week after this was all over.
First things first, however. How does this go again? Katriel tried to sort through her fuzzy thoughts. Oh, right. The counselor lifted her right hand to her comm badge.
“Sedai to Doctor Rezadi, please attend the Captain in my office.”
That done, the betazoid hauled herself off the couch and approached the slumped Trill woman. She clumsily maneuvered the Captain flat on the couch and her fingers searched Skyler’s wrist for a pulse.
As she counted the beats silently, Katriel tried to process what had happened. Had the experiment been a success? Quaen had certainly responded, it seemed, but the communication had not been particularly useful. And obviously the Captain had not reacted well, so this was not a sustainable solution at any rate.
So disoriented and distracted, Katriel thought at first what she mentally heard was a mistake.
“Oh no, I’ve killed her.”
Slow blink once, twice. The counselor exhaustedly turned her head to blankly survey the room. No one else seemed to be present to account for the voice. So, that meant... …
Stars, it was so hard to think! Katriel gave up trying to understand things.
“Who said that?”
First things first, however. How does this go again? Katriel tried to sort through her fuzzy thoughts. Oh, right. The counselor lifted her right hand to her comm badge.
“Sedai to Doctor Rezadi, please attend the Captain in my office.”
That done, the betazoid hauled herself off the couch and approached the slumped Trill woman. She clumsily maneuvered the Captain flat on the couch and her fingers searched Skyler’s wrist for a pulse.
As she counted the beats silently, Katriel tried to process what had happened. Had the experiment been a success? Quaen had certainly responded, it seemed, but the communication had not been particularly useful. And obviously the Captain had not reacted well, so this was not a sustainable solution at any rate.
So disoriented and distracted, Katriel thought at first what she mentally heard was a mistake.
“Oh no, I’ve killed her.”
Slow blink once, twice. The counselor exhaustedly turned her head to blankly survey the room. No one else seemed to be present to account for the voice. So, that meant... …
Stars, it was so hard to think! Katriel gave up trying to understand things.
“Who said that?”
Skyler wrote:
- - - - -
((Apologies for kidnapping Hassiri! Well, obviously not /that/ apologetic...))
The trill doctor was all smiles as she approached the weary betazoid, offering her a warmed mug of viscous liquid. “Here you go, dear, this should help some.”
She considered the counselor as the drink changed hands, summing her opinion on the other woman's state with a soft motherly clucking. “My follow up recommendation is sleep, but Captain Hassiri's purring only goes so far in terms of communicating with our second patient.”
Beyond the glass, Hassiri was indeed looming over Skyler's biofunction monitor, tail locked in a thoughtful, swishy repetition, side to side. It was not hard to imagine the caitian rumbling his reassurances, but perhaps that was simply Rezadi's fancy before she turned her attention to the more serious discussion.
“They both appear fine, but the synaptic ghosting left on Chassy's cranial nerves--...in simplest terms, her brain overloaded and shut down. We're 'rebooting' it by keeping her sedated within an NREM sleep cycle, to give the tender synapses a rest.”
The doctor paused to gauge the success of her explanation to the counselor's tired mind, drawing strands of black from her forehead and behind an ear before continuing with her pervasive smile.
“There wasn't any permanent damage to her neuroreceptors, thankfully, but I'm not waking her up until we mitigate the chances of it happening again. As for Quaen...readings are only slightly abnormal from the baseline I've charted. It's perplexing, but its state now is essentially the same as I've been charting for months. Perhaps the Sushruta's more sensitive equipment will find something I missed aboard the Kvaedis, but...”
Another pause,
“I know you're tired, counselor, but I think your contact with Quaen holds all the corner pieces to this puzzle. Can you tell me what happened?”
- - - - -
((Helping Skyler out with transferring posts, because ... that's a lot of posts. also she forgot page 2 of Chrysalis, hahahaha... ;x ))
Katriel wrote:
Katriel peered suspiciously at the liquid in the mug she cradled, as she listened to the summation of Skyler’s condition. It certainly didn’t look particular digestable. She hoped Doctor Rezadi would not notice that she never took a sip.
At Rezadi’s query, Katriel took a breath and annotated the events of the session, up until Skyler’s collapse.
“I had hypothesized that perhaps... psychologically, anger is easily one of the more … ‘inspiring’ emotions, if you will. That with sufficient adrenaline and provocation, we could reach through the symbiont's barriers and make contact. It seems to work, though not in any sort of ideal manner.”
The counselor paused to bring up a hand to her right temple, pressing firmly.
“Then, after the Captain had fainted, … to my surprise, Quaen became even more active. I thought I was imagining things -- I wasn’t aware that a symbiont could continue to be conscious independently of the host, but I continued to receive mental feedback from an external source and it couldn’t have been the Captain.”
“It was more manageable, in fact, unlike the barrages I’ve received in the past. More coherent than prior contact as well, though there was still a distinct sense of confusion underlining every sending.”
“I had asked -- well, I wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I asked ‘who are you?’ And it actually tried to respond to me directly, though not in so many words. It was definitely showing signs of having understood and it sent me … impressions. Only semi-coherent ones, nothing I really recognized.”
“But after a few minutes -- I think it was only minutes, I’m not tracking time very well right now, I’m afraid -- the imagery became more fragmented and more … more panicked. And almost all of it was focused on the Captain. Like it had noticed that she was not conscious and … I think it was almost guilt that I felt then.”
“And hysteria.” Katriel frowned at the remembrance. “That … agitation continued building and building until the symbiont suddenly stopped sending altogether.”
“I think some amount of the fog I was feeling must have been projected by the symbiont, because at that moment, it did become significantly easier to process things. I did try to send to Quaen again, just a prod or two, but it was unresponsive. Not even a whisper of activity.”
And you couldn’t pay me enough to get me to want to try getting angry again, Katriel sighed. “That was just a minute or so before you arrived.”
At Rezadi’s query, Katriel took a breath and annotated the events of the session, up until Skyler’s collapse.
“I had hypothesized that perhaps... psychologically, anger is easily one of the more … ‘inspiring’ emotions, if you will. That with sufficient adrenaline and provocation, we could reach through the symbiont's barriers and make contact. It seems to work, though not in any sort of ideal manner.”
The counselor paused to bring up a hand to her right temple, pressing firmly.
“Then, after the Captain had fainted, … to my surprise, Quaen became even more active. I thought I was imagining things -- I wasn’t aware that a symbiont could continue to be conscious independently of the host, but I continued to receive mental feedback from an external source and it couldn’t have been the Captain.”
“It was more manageable, in fact, unlike the barrages I’ve received in the past. More coherent than prior contact as well, though there was still a distinct sense of confusion underlining every sending.”
“I had asked -- well, I wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I asked ‘who are you?’ And it actually tried to respond to me directly, though not in so many words. It was definitely showing signs of having understood and it sent me … impressions. Only semi-coherent ones, nothing I really recognized.”
“But after a few minutes -- I think it was only minutes, I’m not tracking time very well right now, I’m afraid -- the imagery became more fragmented and more … more panicked. And almost all of it was focused on the Captain. Like it had noticed that she was not conscious and … I think it was almost guilt that I felt then.”
“And hysteria.” Katriel frowned at the remembrance. “That … agitation continued building and building until the symbiont suddenly stopped sending altogether.”
“I think some amount of the fog I was feeling must have been projected by the symbiont, because at that moment, it did become significantly easier to process things. I did try to send to Quaen again, just a prod or two, but it was unresponsive. Not even a whisper of activity.”
And you couldn’t pay me enough to get me to want to try getting angry again, Katriel sighed. “That was just a minute or so before you arrived.”
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Skyler wrote:
The doctor's smile had lit up over the course of Katriel's debriefing, and now she tapped stretched fingertips together with anticipatory delight.
“Fascinating! Most times the symbiont does not continue without the consciousness of the host- usually the sense that overwhelms the host also overwhelms the symbiont, given the shared emotional pool.”
The finger tapping slowed, “That it stayed awake is not terribly surprising, since the two haven't really had a chance to 'bond', as it were, but it's still certainly an edge piece.”
The doctor mulled this over while reviewing the scene over her shoulder with hum. Dark eyes refocused on the reflection in the glass, on the counselor with her untouched drink, and the exploratory grin softened to benevolent concern.
“I know it's not terribly appetizing dear, but 'good medicine is always bitter'.”
She faced Katriel again, leaving it at that, and fingers resuming their cascade against each other.
“The pattern fits that of comatose recovery. The gradual increase in responsiveness leading to sporadic moments of lucidity. Next, the time frames in which Quaen is awake will slowly increase over a period of a few days or even a week until it's fully recovered. The confusion is natural.”
Again, the doctor's smile tugged wider, thrilled at the prospect of the long term patient's recovery.
“Quaen probably wasn't even aware it had been rejoined, and that twofold confusion is probable cause for it forgetting its own joining training since and overloading Chassy. As long as its actions weren't seem hostile to its new host, as can sometimes be the case in traumatic rehosting, I see no reason to keep Chassy sedated past the recovery cycle.”
“Fascinating! Most times the symbiont does not continue without the consciousness of the host- usually the sense that overwhelms the host also overwhelms the symbiont, given the shared emotional pool.”
The finger tapping slowed, “That it stayed awake is not terribly surprising, since the two haven't really had a chance to 'bond', as it were, but it's still certainly an edge piece.”
The doctor mulled this over while reviewing the scene over her shoulder with hum. Dark eyes refocused on the reflection in the glass, on the counselor with her untouched drink, and the exploratory grin softened to benevolent concern.
“I know it's not terribly appetizing dear, but 'good medicine is always bitter'.”
She faced Katriel again, leaving it at that, and fingers resuming their cascade against each other.
“The pattern fits that of comatose recovery. The gradual increase in responsiveness leading to sporadic moments of lucidity. Next, the time frames in which Quaen is awake will slowly increase over a period of a few days or even a week until it's fully recovered. The confusion is natural.”
Again, the doctor's smile tugged wider, thrilled at the prospect of the long term patient's recovery.
“Quaen probably wasn't even aware it had been rejoined, and that twofold confusion is probable cause for it forgetting its own joining training since and overloading Chassy. As long as its actions weren't seem hostile to its new host, as can sometimes be the case in traumatic rehosting, I see no reason to keep Chassy sedated past the recovery cycle.”
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Katriel wrote:
Katriel nodded tiredly through Rezadi's speculation, not totally registering what was being said. She made a face at the doctor's figurative prod to drink and obediently lifted the mug up to her nose to sniff.
Between her exhaustion and forcing herself to down a gulp of the mysterious liquid, Katriel's attention to Rezadi's speaking had dwindled so much that she nearly missed a point of contradiction.
"Quaen probably wasn't even aware it had been rejoined, and that twofold confusion is probable cause for it forgetting its own joining training..."
Quaen, unaware that it was joined to a new host? While that was certainly possible, it didn't seem to match up with what Katriel had been sensing. If she had to guess, the counselor would wager that the symbiont had reacted to anger because it was instinctually trying to defend its host from a perceived foreign threat.
Additionally, Skyler's recollection of her first day in the Task Force had been accompanied by faint impressions from the symbiont. Quaen had been aware during those events, perhaps it had actually always been more aware than anyone had previously guessed. It just failed to communicate to its host in return.
Though, hadn't the Captain said once that she had received impressions from Quaen before, in the form of dreams...?
Another sign that the symbiont was more active when Skyler was unconscious than awake!
"Doctor Rezadi," the counselor struggled to contain the revelation. "I seem to recall the Captain telling me, once, that she sometimes dreams of events from Quaen's past lives. If that were true, that would be another example of the symbiont being more active while the Captain was unconscious."
Between her exhaustion and forcing herself to down a gulp of the mysterious liquid, Katriel's attention to Rezadi's speaking had dwindled so much that she nearly missed a point of contradiction.
"Quaen probably wasn't even aware it had been rejoined, and that twofold confusion is probable cause for it forgetting its own joining training..."
Quaen, unaware that it was joined to a new host? While that was certainly possible, it didn't seem to match up with what Katriel had been sensing. If she had to guess, the counselor would wager that the symbiont had reacted to anger because it was instinctually trying to defend its host from a perceived foreign threat.
Additionally, Skyler's recollection of her first day in the Task Force had been accompanied by faint impressions from the symbiont. Quaen had been aware during those events, perhaps it had actually always been more aware than anyone had previously guessed. It just failed to communicate to its host in return.
Though, hadn't the Captain said once that she had received impressions from Quaen before, in the form of dreams...?
Another sign that the symbiont was more active when Skyler was unconscious than awake!
"Doctor Rezadi," the counselor struggled to contain the revelation. "I seem to recall the Captain telling me, once, that she sometimes dreams of events from Quaen's past lives. If that were true, that would be another example of the symbiont being more active while the Captain was unconscious."
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Skyler wrote:
The doctor digested that new information with a renewed- almost manic- smile for the challenge it presented. Her hands pressed together in front of her, fingers tapping with her aloud musing.
“Oh! Oh, but that's indicative of prolonged contact, which doesn't fit at all with the pattern of coma recovery. But that contact must have been one sided, since, well, we've established what happens when Quaen and Chassy interact consciously. I doubt that would have happened without Chassy noticing... but experience seep?”
The doctor quieted her thoughts internally, where she continued unfettered by the need to keep her jargon at a minimum. The other woman was completely forgotten for several minutes until she startled the silence with:
“After Chassy was released from the institute, no one thought to monitor their sleep cycles...it's possible that Quaen was comatose at the time and so nothing came of it, but it's also entirely possible that Quaen's since recovered enough to...but why the nocturnal activity? Why not synch with its new host?”
She stopped in front of Katriel, eyes gleamed with delight. “Oh, Katriel, I asked for a corner piece, and you've handed me a whole new puzzle! We might have been working off the wrong cover art entirely! Let's allow Chassy a full night's sleep, hmm? And see where that puts us in the morning.”
To the excited trill's credit, she waited politely for Katriel's response, executed the appropriate pleasantries (and orders to get a good night's rest herself,) before bustling off to commandeer more of Hassiri's time and equipment.
“Oh! Oh, but that's indicative of prolonged contact, which doesn't fit at all with the pattern of coma recovery. But that contact must have been one sided, since, well, we've established what happens when Quaen and Chassy interact consciously. I doubt that would have happened without Chassy noticing... but experience seep?”
The doctor quieted her thoughts internally, where she continued unfettered by the need to keep her jargon at a minimum. The other woman was completely forgotten for several minutes until she startled the silence with:
“After Chassy was released from the institute, no one thought to monitor their sleep cycles...it's possible that Quaen was comatose at the time and so nothing came of it, but it's also entirely possible that Quaen's since recovered enough to...but why the nocturnal activity? Why not synch with its new host?”
She stopped in front of Katriel, eyes gleamed with delight. “Oh, Katriel, I asked for a corner piece, and you've handed me a whole new puzzle! We might have been working off the wrong cover art entirely! Let's allow Chassy a full night's sleep, hmm? And see where that puts us in the morning.”
To the excited trill's credit, she waited politely for Katriel's response, executed the appropriate pleasantries (and orders to get a good night's rest herself,) before bustling off to commandeer more of Hassiri's time and equipment.
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