Ported over from the old thread, started by Katriel and involving Skyler and Dev. I've denoted who's posts belong where!
Katriel wrote:
“So you were trapped in the engineering room and you ducked behind some crates to avoid phaser fire. And then what happened?” the counselor prompted, her voice gentle.
Engineering ensign Silva paused in her intermittent kleenex-tearing to daub at her eyes. “And … and then … then the Captain’s voice was over the comm! and she was yelling at me about how I forgot to clean my fish tank and that the smell of the algae was poisoning the first officer and I kept apologizing but she wouldn’t listen and she said I’d never make Lieutenant at this rate and --”
“Wait, … wait, wait,” Katriel interrupted, eyebrows drawing inward suspiciously. “Is … are you sure you’re recounting the right events?”
The counselor winced as Silva’s eyes immediately welled up and flooded over with tears. “O-- of course it is, why would I make up a thing like thiiiiiiis, waaaaahh!”
Never did the counselor require so much steadfast will as she did now, to resist the urge to clap her hands over her ears at the ensign’s bawling. Katriel eyed her patient with a great deal of trepidation, frowning over the details. She had already met with a number of other engineers and none of them had even mentioned a firefight in the engineering bay. A thought occurred to her.
“Ensign, have you been drinking?” The counselor was unable to keep a hint of accusation from creeping into the question.
Right on cue, the ensign hiccuped. “Um... well, I was so upset and I think maybe Ashley bought me a drink to make me feel better, but I’m sure … was it just one drink or -- I’m sure it was -- oh, why can’t I rememberrrrrrr...”
Katriel didn’t bother to suppress her deadpan expression this time as the ensign dissolved into tears again. She sighed and stood, walking over to a table on which there was an open medkit and loaded a hypospray. Honestly, what did she expect? She’d seen her share of drunk patients back on Casperia Prime, so why would Risa be any different? At least she had already learned enough to know that continuing the session with this girl would be a waste of time in her condition.
After injecting Ensign Silva, Katriel opened the cabin door and signalled to her friends, who approached with worry in their eyes. The counselor kept her tone clipped, but tried not to appear too angry. “I can’t do anything for her while she’s intoxicated. I’ve given her a dose of thiamine which might help with the hangover, but for now, bring her back to her room and have her see me in the morning. And *no alcohol*.”
“Yes, counselor,” the group acknowledged, leading their inebriated and still slightly sobbing friend away.
Katriel watched them go, exhaling slowly through her mouth and taking an altogether too brief moment to admire the Risian sunset. As temporary postings go, it wasn’t so terrible and the counselor was reasonably pleased to be putting her skills to good use in the wake of the tragedy of the U.S.S. Alexandria. But at this moment, she would’ve traded this sunset and all the others to be back in her tiny bunk on the Kvaedis, even if it meant working with the exasperating Lieutenant Evans. At least he had the sense to attend their sessions sober.
Engineering ensign Silva paused in her intermittent kleenex-tearing to daub at her eyes. “And … and then … then the Captain’s voice was over the comm! and she was yelling at me about how I forgot to clean my fish tank and that the smell of the algae was poisoning the first officer and I kept apologizing but she wouldn’t listen and she said I’d never make Lieutenant at this rate and --”
“Wait, … wait, wait,” Katriel interrupted, eyebrows drawing inward suspiciously. “Is … are you sure you’re recounting the right events?”
The counselor winced as Silva’s eyes immediately welled up and flooded over with tears. “O-- of course it is, why would I make up a thing like thiiiiiiis, waaaaahh!”
Never did the counselor require so much steadfast will as she did now, to resist the urge to clap her hands over her ears at the ensign’s bawling. Katriel eyed her patient with a great deal of trepidation, frowning over the details. She had already met with a number of other engineers and none of them had even mentioned a firefight in the engineering bay. A thought occurred to her.
“Ensign, have you been drinking?” The counselor was unable to keep a hint of accusation from creeping into the question.
Right on cue, the ensign hiccuped. “Um... well, I was so upset and I think maybe Ashley bought me a drink to make me feel better, but I’m sure … was it just one drink or -- I’m sure it was -- oh, why can’t I rememberrrrrrr...”
Katriel didn’t bother to suppress her deadpan expression this time as the ensign dissolved into tears again. She sighed and stood, walking over to a table on which there was an open medkit and loaded a hypospray. Honestly, what did she expect? She’d seen her share of drunk patients back on Casperia Prime, so why would Risa be any different? At least she had already learned enough to know that continuing the session with this girl would be a waste of time in her condition.
After injecting Ensign Silva, Katriel opened the cabin door and signalled to her friends, who approached with worry in their eyes. The counselor kept her tone clipped, but tried not to appear too angry. “I can’t do anything for her while she’s intoxicated. I’ve given her a dose of thiamine which might help with the hangover, but for now, bring her back to her room and have her see me in the morning. And *no alcohol*.”
“Yes, counselor,” the group acknowledged, leading their inebriated and still slightly sobbing friend away.
Katriel watched them go, exhaling slowly through her mouth and taking an altogether too brief moment to admire the Risian sunset. As temporary postings go, it wasn’t so terrible and the counselor was reasonably pleased to be putting her skills to good use in the wake of the tragedy of the U.S.S. Alexandria. But at this moment, she would’ve traded this sunset and all the others to be back in her tiny bunk on the Kvaedis, even if it meant working with the exasperating Lieutenant Evans. At least he had the sense to attend their sessions sober.
Skyler wrote:
At this moment, Chassy Skyler would have traded the all the beaches on Risa to have one Counselor Katriel Sedai back in her tiny bunk on the Kvaedis. Perhaps even the planet itself.
The declaration of war had gone unheeded-- her attention, repeatedly disciplined to stay on the task at hand, strayed single-mindedly to the cause of her good mood and left very little room for environmental awareness. She was, after all, aboard the Kvaedis, safely tucked away in her own tiny quarters. She had no reason to be wary...
At the highest point in her quarters lurked a mastermind of guerrilla warfare. This lone tactician did not start this war, nor did she have any delusions of ending it, but she would execute her part with decisive ruthlessness.
Her enemy, unlike Skyler, was not unawares, but he was sorely disadvantaged. Banished to the confines of the meter-long lead, he lacked the maneuverability so imperative to her plans. All he could do, as the black shadow lept from shelving to floor, was watch. Watch, and strain against his prison silently- lest he call upon the ire of his mistress.
The first step to victory in battle was to cloud your enemy's mind with emotion- frustration-- every tactician knew this. Her first attack- to stir this cloud- was flawless. Step, lightly, unafraid, just outside the reaches of her enemy. Tail erect. Show no fear for the reaching teeth, the disgusting pink tongue, the hideously wet nose promising to violate the sanctity of cleaned fur. Her enemy could not reach her.
All that Skyler saw- registered at the very back of her mind- was the sleek black cat daintily picking its way across the room.
What the jackal mastiff saw, was temptation incarnate. His mistress had seen him bask in the attention of her underlings. She knew that warm, scented hands and cuddly pettings put all sense of duty from his mind. She was testing him, training him, as a good pack leader ought, using this lovable, furry LickToy as reminder of what he Should Not Do when Duty Called. He Should Not lick it. He Should Not carry it about the room. He Should Not bring it back to his blanket bed and curl around it for a showering of attention. He Should Not, but oh, oh did he want to. Just a little lick, just once...just once...
It was working. The choked whine from the bloodthirsty beast- as it lunged after her taunting steps, again and again, only to be refuted by his constraints- was titillating music to her flattening ears.
The second step to victory in battle, was to impress upon your enemy the futility of his cause. Take away everything, so he has nothing left to fight for. She owned the territory, as much as she owned her own quarters. He could not stop her. And soon, her next connivance would send him spiraling into such depths of despair that he would no longer have the will to fight.
Chassy Skyler dropped her PADD.
“Wh-”
The cat, completely unperturbed, circled the open lap- made more accessible by the Trill's surprised recoil from the workstation- and settled herself in a cozy ball. Paws crooked over the woman's legs to pillow an unblinking mockery at the reaching beast. The lap she commandeered shifted uncomfortably, but she would not be dislodged. Claws saw to that.
Chassy winced for the pinpricks bypassing her uniform. It wasn't worth moving the thing if it was just going to shred her garments...and- with a sigh- she could still do her work around it.
The third party in this unwilling conflict...slowed his lunge and slunk to the floor, reviewing the treacherous scene before his eyes with reeling mind and whining voice. His mistress was giving it attention. She had given the Other One attention too, despite him. They had both demanded affection, and she'd given it. Her Lesson must not be about Should Nots. It was a Lesson on Shoulds. She wanted Decisive Action. Like the others, if he wanted Pets, he should Take Them. Take them!
...when the dust settled, after the cat had finally reclaimed her vantage in the highest point of the room- Chassy surveyed the damage with a heaved sigh. 'Stand down' was not an order that translated into Animal, and her quarters, along with her thigh, had suffered greatly when the jackal pup had broken its lead and rushed cat and Trill both.
The chase that ensued-- well, Captain Traise's warning to have her fabrication engineers copy her furniture patterns had not been as unwarranted as she'd thought. She released her protective cling on her thankfully unscathed cello and sunk to her knees with her sigh.
The war had been short but fierce, and its repetition was to be avoide--
“Wh- ..- sit!”
He sat. Perhaps not in the way she intended, but he was Obeying Orders. Feigning stupidity was Often Okay, this point being one of them. He, already halfway there, sat in her lap. She did not move him. Lesson Learned: Attention Is To Be Sought Decisively.
The tactician watched from above, tail pipe-cleanered and eyes narrowed to miniscule slits of rage, and spat her insults at the unexpected alliance below.
At this moment, Chassy Skyler would have traded Risa to have Counselor Sedai back on the Kvaedis. Thigh itched from the scored cat scratches, throat dry and heart weary from pounding, she considered her options.
“Dev.” She shouldered the door chime again. “It's- um. Me.”
The larruping beast was making short work of her sweater.
“Hurry-- please.”
A paw escaped through one of the convoluted folds, claws thrashing open air.
The declaration of war had gone unheeded-- her attention, repeatedly disciplined to stay on the task at hand, strayed single-mindedly to the cause of her good mood and left very little room for environmental awareness. She was, after all, aboard the Kvaedis, safely tucked away in her own tiny quarters. She had no reason to be wary...
At the highest point in her quarters lurked a mastermind of guerrilla warfare. This lone tactician did not start this war, nor did she have any delusions of ending it, but she would execute her part with decisive ruthlessness.
Her enemy, unlike Skyler, was not unawares, but he was sorely disadvantaged. Banished to the confines of the meter-long lead, he lacked the maneuverability so imperative to her plans. All he could do, as the black shadow lept from shelving to floor, was watch. Watch, and strain against his prison silently- lest he call upon the ire of his mistress.
The first step to victory in battle was to cloud your enemy's mind with emotion- frustration-- every tactician knew this. Her first attack- to stir this cloud- was flawless. Step, lightly, unafraid, just outside the reaches of her enemy. Tail erect. Show no fear for the reaching teeth, the disgusting pink tongue, the hideously wet nose promising to violate the sanctity of cleaned fur. Her enemy could not reach her.
All that Skyler saw- registered at the very back of her mind- was the sleek black cat daintily picking its way across the room.
What the jackal mastiff saw, was temptation incarnate. His mistress had seen him bask in the attention of her underlings. She knew that warm, scented hands and cuddly pettings put all sense of duty from his mind. She was testing him, training him, as a good pack leader ought, using this lovable, furry LickToy as reminder of what he Should Not Do when Duty Called. He Should Not lick it. He Should Not carry it about the room. He Should Not bring it back to his blanket bed and curl around it for a showering of attention. He Should Not, but oh, oh did he want to. Just a little lick, just once...just once...
It was working. The choked whine from the bloodthirsty beast- as it lunged after her taunting steps, again and again, only to be refuted by his constraints- was titillating music to her flattening ears.
The second step to victory in battle, was to impress upon your enemy the futility of his cause. Take away everything, so he has nothing left to fight for. She owned the territory, as much as she owned her own quarters. He could not stop her. And soon, her next connivance would send him spiraling into such depths of despair that he would no longer have the will to fight.
Chassy Skyler dropped her PADD.
“Wh-”
The cat, completely unperturbed, circled the open lap- made more accessible by the Trill's surprised recoil from the workstation- and settled herself in a cozy ball. Paws crooked over the woman's legs to pillow an unblinking mockery at the reaching beast. The lap she commandeered shifted uncomfortably, but she would not be dislodged. Claws saw to that.
Chassy winced for the pinpricks bypassing her uniform. It wasn't worth moving the thing if it was just going to shred her garments...and- with a sigh- she could still do her work around it.
The third party in this unwilling conflict...slowed his lunge and slunk to the floor, reviewing the treacherous scene before his eyes with reeling mind and whining voice. His mistress was giving it attention. She had given the Other One attention too, despite him. They had both demanded affection, and she'd given it. Her Lesson must not be about Should Nots. It was a Lesson on Shoulds. She wanted Decisive Action. Like the others, if he wanted Pets, he should Take Them. Take them!
...when the dust settled, after the cat had finally reclaimed her vantage in the highest point of the room- Chassy surveyed the damage with a heaved sigh. 'Stand down' was not an order that translated into Animal, and her quarters, along with her thigh, had suffered greatly when the jackal pup had broken its lead and rushed cat and Trill both.
The chase that ensued-- well, Captain Traise's warning to have her fabrication engineers copy her furniture patterns had not been as unwarranted as she'd thought. She released her protective cling on her thankfully unscathed cello and sunk to her knees with her sigh.
The war had been short but fierce, and its repetition was to be avoide--
“Wh- ..- sit!”
He sat. Perhaps not in the way she intended, but he was Obeying Orders. Feigning stupidity was Often Okay, this point being one of them. He, already halfway there, sat in her lap. She did not move him. Lesson Learned: Attention Is To Be Sought Decisively.
The tactician watched from above, tail pipe-cleanered and eyes narrowed to miniscule slits of rage, and spat her insults at the unexpected alliance below.
At this moment, Chassy Skyler would have traded Risa to have Counselor Sedai back on the Kvaedis. Thigh itched from the scored cat scratches, throat dry and heart weary from pounding, she considered her options.
“Dev.” She shouldered the door chime again. “It's- um. Me.”
The larruping beast was making short work of her sweater.
“Hurry-- please.”
A paw escaped through one of the convoluted folds, claws thrashing open air.
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XR wrote:
(( My next dog, I am replacing "That'lldo" with "Stand Down". ))
Dev wrote:
Bolinsky had become a problem.
As Dev hammered away at the workstation in his quarters--some minute adjustment to EPS protocols, probably--he kept finding his attention slipping. His star engineer had an abundance of confidence, and she was starting to challenge his orders more frequently. Dev didn't actually mind the scholarly battle. In fact, he sorely missed sparring over warp theory and optimal manifold configurations, and he had tried to find similarly minded colleagues in the Task Force's command structure, to no avail. And then, there came Bolinsky, once a mere transporter operator on the Kvaedis, but with a strong recommendation from himself, Skyler had agreed to let her--
Dev's meandering train of thought was derailed as a mass of fur lept onto his console, causing a handful of extraneous numerals (ending with a long line of repeating 3s) to flood into his carefully crafted equations. The cat mewed innocently and ran her rump affectionately across Dev's forearm. The chief engineer took a patient breath, and gently scooped up the animal, took five paces to the opposite side of his quarters, and set her down. He went back to his work.
After correcting for feline algebra, Dev found his thoughts trailing right back to Bolinsky. She was practically taking over the engine room. At first, Dev thought that he could leave her in charge for a few shifts and that would give her enough satisfaction. Now she was practically questioning his authority in front of the younger technicians, and--while he feared losing the trust and goodwill that he'd worked so long to build among the young engineering crew--the worst part of it was, sometimes he was wrong. The new transwarp accelerators, for instance, were relatively new to Dev, and Bolinsky could fly intellectual circles around him when it came to pattern buffers. He had even realized he'd been assigning extra maintenance duty to the impulse manifold, just so he'd have the upper hand in expertise. If he couldn't even outshine a lieutenant as a chief engineer--
The abrupt cat tossed herself onto the console again, her tail quivering. Dev sighed. There were times when he wished he weren't known for being good with animals. With a bit more firmness, he picked her up, placed her on the other side of the room, and sat back down.
Dev's eyes lowered to one of the controls at his workstation; it was blinking a slow red. Taunting him. The red of command had been the most important motivator behind his return to Starfleet. It kept him focused through his remedial courses at the Academy, being old enough to grandfather many of his classmates. But was he really on course for a captain's seat, at this rate? He couldn't even keep on top of his engineering crew! And who's going to pay attention to the chief engineer of an undersized, unstable, kludged-together, deathtrap of a--
The cat leapt back onto the workstation, and this time Dev couldn't help himself. He grabbed her, growled, and tossed her across the room.
"Computer, erect a level two containment field around my desk!"
Even before he saw the flash envelop him, Dev cupped his head in his hands. This was not the way things were supposed to go. He felt he was grappling just to stay afloat in his career. And now, he could feel the temptation to resort to more drastic measures, but he didn't--
There was a sizzle, then an angry hiss, as the cat's whiskers drew up against the wall of force. And force is all Dev had left to think about. It wasn't right at all. He glanced up in time to see his small guest scurry into the far corner then busy herself with a petulant grooming. That's what would happen if he forced himself to shut Bolinsky down. She would feel hurt, unfairly punished, simply for trying to do her best, trying to be like him.
Dev glanced to the equations on his screen and frowned. There were often several possible solutions to a problem. Sometimes you had to take an entirely unintuitive approach to find the better alternative.
He slowly turned in his chair and watched the sulking cat, resting his chin in one hand. They both sat, brooding, for over ten minutes. Finally, the cat stretched, moved forward a little, and sat near the edge of Dev's work space. She started kneading at the floor with both front paws.
Dev let out a long breath and shut down his console.
"Computer, deactivate the containment field."
As Dev hammered away at the workstation in his quarters--some minute adjustment to EPS protocols, probably--he kept finding his attention slipping. His star engineer had an abundance of confidence, and she was starting to challenge his orders more frequently. Dev didn't actually mind the scholarly battle. In fact, he sorely missed sparring over warp theory and optimal manifold configurations, and he had tried to find similarly minded colleagues in the Task Force's command structure, to no avail. And then, there came Bolinsky, once a mere transporter operator on the Kvaedis, but with a strong recommendation from himself, Skyler had agreed to let her--
Dev's meandering train of thought was derailed as a mass of fur lept onto his console, causing a handful of extraneous numerals (ending with a long line of repeating 3s) to flood into his carefully crafted equations. The cat mewed innocently and ran her rump affectionately across Dev's forearm. The chief engineer took a patient breath, and gently scooped up the animal, took five paces to the opposite side of his quarters, and set her down. He went back to his work.
After correcting for feline algebra, Dev found his thoughts trailing right back to Bolinsky. She was practically taking over the engine room. At first, Dev thought that he could leave her in charge for a few shifts and that would give her enough satisfaction. Now she was practically questioning his authority in front of the younger technicians, and--while he feared losing the trust and goodwill that he'd worked so long to build among the young engineering crew--the worst part of it was, sometimes he was wrong. The new transwarp accelerators, for instance, were relatively new to Dev, and Bolinsky could fly intellectual circles around him when it came to pattern buffers. He had even realized he'd been assigning extra maintenance duty to the impulse manifold, just so he'd have the upper hand in expertise. If he couldn't even outshine a lieutenant as a chief engineer--
The abrupt cat tossed herself onto the console again, her tail quivering. Dev sighed. There were times when he wished he weren't known for being good with animals. With a bit more firmness, he picked her up, placed her on the other side of the room, and sat back down.
Dev's eyes lowered to one of the controls at his workstation; it was blinking a slow red. Taunting him. The red of command had been the most important motivator behind his return to Starfleet. It kept him focused through his remedial courses at the Academy, being old enough to grandfather many of his classmates. But was he really on course for a captain's seat, at this rate? He couldn't even keep on top of his engineering crew! And who's going to pay attention to the chief engineer of an undersized, unstable, kludged-together, deathtrap of a--
The cat leapt back onto the workstation, and this time Dev couldn't help himself. He grabbed her, growled, and tossed her across the room.
"Computer, erect a level two containment field around my desk!"
Even before he saw the flash envelop him, Dev cupped his head in his hands. This was not the way things were supposed to go. He felt he was grappling just to stay afloat in his career. And now, he could feel the temptation to resort to more drastic measures, but he didn't--
There was a sizzle, then an angry hiss, as the cat's whiskers drew up against the wall of force. And force is all Dev had left to think about. It wasn't right at all. He glanced up in time to see his small guest scurry into the far corner then busy herself with a petulant grooming. That's what would happen if he forced himself to shut Bolinsky down. She would feel hurt, unfairly punished, simply for trying to do her best, trying to be like him.
Dev glanced to the equations on his screen and frowned. There were often several possible solutions to a problem. Sometimes you had to take an entirely unintuitive approach to find the better alternative.
He slowly turned in his chair and watched the sulking cat, resting his chin in one hand. They both sat, brooding, for over ten minutes. Finally, the cat stretched, moved forward a little, and sat near the edge of Dev's work space. She started kneading at the floor with both front paws.
Dev let out a long breath and shut down his console.
"Computer, deactivate the containment field."
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