Star Trek: Season 9

[Feathers]

Galdar sat at his duty station in shuttle bay 4 and stared through the panoramic window at the array of craft in front of him. The Tellarite ship was still there and still looked out of place. Apparently it had been impounded on suspicion of smuggling something-or-another but station Security had finished with it two days before having found nothing. Now it was sitting here, disarmed, waiting to be claimed by whoever owned it.

The consoles in front of him were empty and the wall mounted stations on either side were similarly unmanned. There were a few work crews moving about on the hanger deck but with the Arabella still being repaired, many had been seconded to that task. As a result, Galdar found his shuttle bay duty even more tedious a test than normal.

For the last half hour, the Ensign had been toying with the idea of taking a look at the Tellarite ship. Given the vessels security status, it would probably be a stupid thing to do but he was tempted anyway. He'd never seen a ship quite like this and was interested in the sort of control surfaces it employed. He shook his head and dismissed the idea, Maybe he'd have a chance when the owner appeared.

He scratched the back of his head, warm beneath the traditional Ferengi head garment he had adapted to a uniform black. The air was dry to his way of thinking and he was convinced that his skin suffered as a result. It wasn't that he liked the continual downpour that was Ferenginar but a little more humidity in the air would surely do no harm, even to the equipment.

A female voice crackled over the com system, interrupting his reverie. "Ops to shuttle bay 4"

"Sir?" the Ferengi responded.

"You have Lieutenant Andrews inbound with walking wounded from the incident near Argiolas, please prepare to receive him".

"Aye, Sir. Bay out." Galdar called as his hands moved to his panel.

Out in the bay, lights strobed and klaxons sounded as the seal on the bay doors was broken at his command. The forcefield was in place, of course, but care was still required, hence the alarms. Visible through the widening gap between door and bulkhead was the nose of a type nine shuttle with the usual red and gold insignia.

As the entrance opened fully, the shuttle passed through the gap, its deflector shield merging with the protective forcefield, preventing any atmospheric leakage. The whole area shimmered as it was disturbed by the ship's passage, but quickly settled into transparency again once the transit was complete.

The bay doors started to close as the ship settled to the deck and two wounded crewmen in starship duty uniforms emerged from the hatch. They quickly headed to the internal doors of the bay, presumably off to the medical wing. Lieutenant Andrews appeared shortly afterwards, paused to seal the craft behind him then disappeared behind the Tellarite ship.

Galdar watched the point where his friend would appear, thinking about the com receiver still in his pocket, but Andrews didn't come into view. Galdar sat straighter and glared at the Tellarite vessel. Was Nick taking the peek that Galdar had denied himself?

His hand jumped to his com badge to remind the Andrews about the ship's impounded status but he restrained himself. Nick was his friend but he was also his superior officer...and an Ensign didn't get to be a Lieutenant by telling other Lieutenants what they could and couldn't do.

He turned back to his station, muttering to himself. "Ferengi are not responsible for the stupidity of other races."

He recited the 69th Rule of Acquisition just as he'd learned it at his mother's knee but then caught himself and stopped suddenly. He sighed, almost theatrically, at yet another sign of his Ferengi heritage refusing to release its hold on him. The rule wasn't the reason he hadn't contacted Andrews...was it?

It was at least five minutes before Nick Andrews emerged from behind the ship and headed off into the bowels of the Starbase, but Galdar was focused elsewhere by then so completely failed to notice as the Lieutenant glanced up into the control room before slipping away.

[Dangelus]

"Computer, lights." Lester ordered abruptly.

Having spent a couple of hours laying in his bed trying to rest the Ensign decided to abandon all hope of sleep.

The earlier conversation with his Mother had left him a little disturbed. Lester had hoped that this assignment would give her less opportunity to interfere with his affairs. Breathing slowly, Lester began to organize and categorize his thoughts and emotions in his head.

He had never been close to his mother. As a child he spent most of his time with his Father who from an early age encouraged him to tinker with technology. He never questioned his relationship with his Mother, he didn't know any different and even the death of his Father failed to rekindle it. Unfortunately, Julia Garriss was a formidable force of a woman; an ambitious and determined individual that had put herself before her family many times and it wasn't long before another important assignment became her priority. Even so, their relocation to Vulcan and his enrolment at the Vulcan Science Academy had given him a totally different perspective and opportunities he had never had before. She would check up on him regularly but not really have much interest in his life unless his life decisions were not to her liking. His fondness for the Vulcan way of life was one.

So what does she want now? Lester thought to himself.

"I am in control of my emotions..." he whispered, retrieving a beautifully decorated lamp from his bedside cabinet.

Putting thoughts of his Mother aside and lighting the lamp, Ensign Lester Garriss began to meditate.

[Meds]

JOINT POST BY FEATHERS AND HAWKEYEMEDS

D'Callan checked his backpack and his list. Refreshments, writing pads, PADD complete with jazz music and stories from the early 21st century that amateurs wrote for entertainment. He'd found them in the history archives and downloaded them for free. Happy that he had everything, he headed for the station's shuttle bay ready to travel down and begin his shore leave.

As he walked in he spotted the enthusiastic Ferengi standing by the control panel looking as if he were talking to himself. Using his security training D'Callan slipped up to the Ensign unnoticed, tapped Galdar on the shoulder and made him jump with surprise.

"Who, What," Galdar span round gazing almost wildly at the man in front of him.

D'Callan laughed. "G'day Galdar, feeling jumpy are we"

Galdar relaxed but was obviously surprised to see the Lieutenant Commander so close.

"Sorry Sir, I was concentrating.", he paused, then smiled slyly, "To be honest, with ears like these I'm unused to people being able to creep up behind me."

"Easy Ensign, here take this"

Galdar took the PADD from Joseph and looked at it. He looked up at the officer then returned his attention to the device, reading aloud as if to ensure he understood the content.

"Ensign Galdar, currently attached to Starbase 416, is ordered to report to the USS Arabella in the person of the Acting XO, Lt Commander James, as soon as his current duties permit. His transfer request, having been approved and accepted, is to take immediate effect.

A medical with the ships Doctor is required as soon as convenient after arrival and all new crew members are requested to visit Councillor Margon for assessment and appraisal.

Your liaison in this transfer will be Lt Commander D'Callan, with effect immediately upon his return from shore leave. The position of pilot is to be discussed with the Acting XO on your arrival. Welcome to the crew!

Captain N. J. Quinn,

Officer Commanding, USS Arabella"

Galdar looked up, his broad grin showing off all of his teeth. D'Callan shielded his eyes.

"Strewth mate, you keep smiling like that I'm gonna have to issue sunglasses for all personal. Now, I need transport down to the planet, got a ship handy?"

[Jen]

Ryla allowed K'Tan to walk her back to her quarters and she effectively ended the evening with another handshake, "goodnight," they said in unison after an awkward hesitation. She laughed as his grin spread. "Thank you for the adventurous dinner," she added. Ryla took a small step backward. Her door opened and she paused in the entry, "I had a nice time..."

"As did I," he said—followed by another stretch of uncomfortable silence.

"I'll... see you later then?"

"Yes," he quickly replied.

The Trill said goodnight again then took another step backward and allowed the door to close between them. She smiled to herself as she stood there facing the door's soft gray surface. After a protracted moment she heard the shuffle of K'Tan's boots as he turn and proceed down the corridor.


Despite the late hour, Ryla felt energized and sleep did not come easily. In the recent past, nightmares had stolen her rest...but this evening was different. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him—felt the warmth of his hand on her own and the intensity of his lingering gaze. His stories echoed in her mind: bits of conversation about K'Lara, the outcasts, his mother, Lieutenant Commander James, and their careers. She tossed and turned for hours until she threw back the blankets in a sudden frustrated movement, and headed for the central living space. Ryla stood there in the dark for a while, listening to the hum of the ship, before turning her attention to her computer terminal.  "Maybe the throng of messages I've been ignoring will put me to sleep..."

With a flourish of key commands, she accessed her communiqués and watched each and every message transmitted, with a fresh perspective. Ryla was determined to answer them all, beginning with her mother and father's Joining Day letter. With a sheepish smile, their youngest daughter informed them that she wore the dress they sent the prior year, to a Klingon restaurant. Adding that the restaurant was dark, but was pretty much mud free—her mother would be pleased at hearing that. Ryla closed her communiqué with a fleeting promise to send a photo...later.

[Meds]

D'Callan sat in the small shuttle and looked round for his pilot. Tapping his fingers at a three beat rhythm he looked round and gave a yawn. After waiting for ten minutes he stood up and stretched and just as his bones cracked into place he felt a warm sensation in his right hand side and then an agonising pain shoot through his rib cage. Crying out in pain he grasped his side and his first thought was 'could this pain be from the injuries he received from the last away mission'. He had lied when he got up from the table to fight the Borg and hadn't been talking the hypo spray remedy that Susan Caine had told him to take. Taking a small breath of the stale air he noticed that a sudden iron taste had begun to fill his mouth and as he spat out the saliva it was obvious that some internal bleeding had come back to say an unwelcome hello.

Staggering out of the shuttle craft he looked around the grey, cold souless bay for help but no-one was there. Galdar had left and his expected pilot had not arrived. Cursing D'Callan tapped his com badge.

"D'Callan to Station Medical bay. Emergency help required in shuttle bay........"

D'Callans eyes began to blur and he shook his head. Holding his stomach he coughed again and the black tar like blood spilled out onto the floor. As he hit the floor he managed to keep his eyes opened just as the same blurred figure he saw in the promenade  bent down in front of him.

[X]

With the children playing in his quarters, Aeric sat alone in his office, the lights dimmed to the point of a faint glow above. For the last twenty minutes, he had attempted to meditate to regain his center. It was an attempt that ended in total failure. Both his head and heart hurt from his wife's simple request. Her or the Arabella.

His hands moved over the cool surface of the desk while his fingers played a heart wrenching song on imaginary key. With every time change, he suffered some sort of loss or wore a uniform of flesh and memories that would have not been his choice. In this life, it was the uniform of husband. Only seconds after losing his daughter, he found himself in a new life. It was a life that should have made him happy. He found that he had been married for five years to a woman that he loved, but from his perspective, it was a love forever tied to the pain of losing his child.

Being a man that held tight to the ideals of honor, he continued to be married and hoped that the love would replace the pain. He was wrong. The man that he was supposed to be in this time line was someone that his collective experiences could not allow him to be.

Now he had a choice to make. Duty to the wife that he loved but was not in love with, or duty to the family he made on the Arabella and the oaths that he had sworn to Starfleet in so many lives.

Part of him had held on to the hope that things would change again. That the universe would, for the first time, morph into something better than it was. Happily ever after wasn't something he imagined ever finding, but recent events had changed that.

The woman that he was supposed to be madly in love with or the woman that always held his heart? What duty did honor dictate that he follow?

Tears swelled in his eyes and tricked down his face as his fingers played the melancholy tune that only he could hear. In his musings, he had not managed to make the life altering decision required of him, but he had found something that had been long missing in his life.

Hope.

[Jen]

"20 cc's of Hidrozeen. Begin cardio stimulation," called Doctor Burgess as he stepped around the man lying on the table within his infirmary. The patient lurched as a baton was pressed against his bare chest and a surge of energy coursed through his heart. "Call the officer in charge of medical on the Arabella and tell them we have one of their crewmen in surgery." 

"Yes sir," came the crisp reply of his assistant.




Ryla was in a dead run through the corridors aboard Arabella—her blue lab coat flapping in air that rushed around her. It was the first time she had worn it since before the Borg Attack, but that fact had yet to cross her mind. Ryla was focused on getting to the Starbase as quickly as possible. She had been awakened just minutes before by a call from Four Sixteen—Joseph D'Callan was in surgery.

Susan Cain's boots pounded the floor just behind the Assistant Chief Medical Officer. Doctor Drett glanced over her shoulder. "I'm right behind you Ryla!" Shouted the nurse.

As they tore through the passageways headed for the turbolift, the doctor let loose an exasperated breath, "Why didn't I think to beam over?!" She slapped the combadge pinned to her uniform, "Doctor Drett to the bridge! Nurse Caine and I require emergency medical transport to the Starbase Infirmary.  Lieutenant Commander D'Callan has been injured!"

An acknowledgement of her request echoed through the beam as Ryla and Susan were transported, midstride, into the Infirmary. They slid to a stop as their bodies materialized just inside the entry.  "Where is he!?" Susan snapped to the aids manning the floor.

[iceman]

Dr. Peterson had been on shoreleave for only a few hours, but had found it hard to unwind. It was as if he had forgotten how to relax, it had been such along time between vacations that it was a concept that had become foreign to him.

Myella could see that Casey seemed somewhat preoccupied and  asked if everything was OK.

Casey responded, "Yes Dear, it just seems so weird being on vacation as it has been such a long time since I had one.

Myella laughed as she looked at her husband, " Don't worry dear, I am sure that after a few drinks and a couple of days on the beach you will feel just fine."

"You are propably right" Casey responded as they approached the promenade of Starbase 413.

Casey and Myella stopped and looked down at the lower level and watched as the crowds of people scurried by, each going their perspective way unaware of the other people or surroundings around them.

The air was filled with the smells and aromas of various foods and spices from alien cultures waiting to be sampled by those who were curious or adventurous enough.

After watching the crowds for awhile Casey and Myella ventured forward into the starbase until they became like one of those people they had watched moments before. They too became lost in the crowds of the starbase ready to partake of the endless possibilties that this vacation had to offer them.

[Jen]

Joint Post by Hawkeyemeds and Jen

Joseph D'Callan had been stabilized by the time Ryla and Susan were transported aboard the station. Doctor Burgess's description of D'Callan's condition, initially puzzled the Assistant Chief Medical Officer. The internal bleeding could not have been a result of the injuries he sustained on Terross, for the records Ryla examined indicated he had fully healed in the weeks following his surgery.

"He never mentioned any symptoms to me," offered Susan in a nervous whisper. She had been spending a lot of time with Josesph and would have recognized an illness had he been sick. Ryla's gaze moved from the nurse to the patient. She stared down at his face, noting the welts that were rapidly forming on the surface of his skin. A quick tricorder scan failed to identify the cause of the dermal condition.

"Doctor Burgess, have you run a toxicology test?"

"Not yet," he replied in a gravely bass.

"I think he's been poisoned... I'll need to use your lab to verify."

"Of course, but it could be any number of things Doctor Drett. For all we know he just had a bad reaction to a Delvin fluff pastries." Ryla smirked at him. "Okay, so internal bleeding isn't typical of an allergic reaction, but I'm not sure why you would jump to this conclusion so quickly..."

The Trill gestured to the red blotches on D'Callan's face, " I've experienced these before. One of Drett's former hosts died from ingesting a fruit that had a similar result. If I'm right, the test will confirm alkaloid poisoning." She heard Susan gasp and glanced to the nurse.

"So...like I said...it may just be a severe allergic reaction," replied Burgess.

Ryla moved her concerned eyes from the nurse to the white haired Terran, "Except that this fruit came from a plant known as 'Borgia'. It is the Flaxian Assassin's preferred method of termination.  Jaunairim, the woman who died, was the host who preceded me.  Once I was joined to Drett I became obsessed in learning everything I could about the toxin... I want to make absolutely sure that I can rule this out. If we don't run the test first he could die while we beat around the bush looking for simpler diagnosis."

Susan's eyes began to well. "Excuse me Doctor," Ryla said to Burgess then took Caine gently by the arm and lead her to the next room. "Are you okay?"

The nurse nodded slowly as she stared into the room where Joseph lay motionless.

"He's going to be alright, Susan... I promise. But I'm going to need your help. Do you think you can assist me?"

Nurse Caine nodded her head again and drew a shuddering breath. Ryla smiled at the woman, "okay...we've got a lot of work to do. Luckily we have everything we need here to succeed, including a very experienced medical staff. Doctor Burgess has him stabilized, and were going to make sure he says that way. Now, if this test comes back positive, I'm going to need you to alert Lieutenant Dunn and Lieutenant Commander K'Tan. They may want to want to work with the Station security on this."

Two men looked at each other and then back to the scene unfolding before them. Cloaked from view, they moved to the Infirmary's entrance and waited for one of the staff members to leave. They watched as Susan returned to D'Callan's bedside abd Ryla began her tests. The older of the two invisible men slowly shook his head and glanced at his companion who nodded his own in silent dispute.

[Feathers]

When Galdar returned to his duty station in shuttle bay 4, he seemed at once both distracted and amused. One other officer was at the main terminal in the control room, but the bay itself was still sterile and quiet. No doubt normality would return once the bulk of the Arabella repairs were complete.

He noticed that the shuttle he'd assigned to transport Lieutenant Commander D'Callan was already back in the bay, looking like it had never moved. The flyer in him understood the drive that must have led the pilot to make the trip in such a short time as to be back already, but as duty Flight Ops Watch Officer, he'd have to make a note of it. He only hoped the Lieutenant Commander had appreciated such a swift journey.

After his meeting with Security Chief D'Callan, Galdar had been summoned to meet his own commanding officer. Commander Radrek had done nothing more than confirm the orders he'd already received but he did it in such a way as to leave Galdar in his current bemused state. He didn't understand the Vulcan relationship with emotion at the best of times but today had really confused him. It wasn't that Radrek was ore emotional than usual, but something in his attitude had come across as almost...fatherly. Galdar blinked as the word struck him. Where did THAT come from? Radrek was nothing like his father, but the description fit, at least in terms that would be understood by a 'normal human family'. Or so he'd read.

Radrek had given him his orders, then sent him on his way with the hope he would find what he sought aboard the starship. "A fatherly blessing", Galdar muttered. For a Vulcan, it appeared that the Commander had hidden emotional depths only hinted at by his hardened exterior.

Mentally shrugging, the Ensign nodded to his colleague and moved to the wall terminal opposite the gantry door. He tapped in a series of commands, his fingers flowing smoothly across the interface, calling up the proposed schedule of Arabella shuttle maintenance. Given that the transfer he hadn't formally applied for had already come through, he now had a double duty to ensure that these tasks were completed as quickly and as efficiently as possible. To that end, he would put a few of his less...formal...contacts on standby in case some difficult to obtain bits and pieces were required.

It was in areas such as this that the Ferengi knew he walked a fine line between duty and background. When he'd left home, he'd foresworn all aspects of Ferengi heritage and that included his business skills and contacts, such as they were. He'd soon discovered, however, that such things still retained their value, even in the creditless Federation society. It had caused him some consternation, but eventually pragmatism had won out over familial anger and Galdar had permitted himself to use all of his skills for the benefit of his new career.

It hadn't aways been straightforward, though. Many of the more exciting parts of his Starfleet record had stemmed from that single, reluctant, decision, but overall it had worked in his favour.

Supply to a mobile platform such as a starship was something he hadn't tried before. It would be more tricky to manage than to a static Starbase, but he was sure something could be arranged. From what he understood, similar practices had been employed by currently serving officers, both Human and Ferengi, during and after the Dominion war. He'd heard that even Commander La Forge of the Enterprise had dabbled with the use of Ferengi supply lines in the somewhat lean times between the war and the fall of the Romulan senate.

Besides, he needed to maintain his grub supply. Obtaining other material at the same time would add little to the difficulty involved.

[Meds]

He walked in between people unnoticed. No one could see him, no one could hear or smell him. He was invisible to everyone except, it appears Joseph D'Callan. Standing in the middle of the promenade he scanned the individuals. At the far end of the busy centre he concentrated on a young Ensign talking to an old man. The Ensign shook his head and walked away from the old man who suddenly burst out laughing and then disappeared. This didn't shock him, in fact he had expected the incident. Pressing some buttons on a panel on his wrist he too left the station, unnoticed.

[dinghead]

A brief stopover at the Officer's Mess revealed that Cook was willing to lend Darius the use of his kitchen in exchange for an invite and samples to scan into the ship's replicators.

Darius agreed to both conditions gladly and went over to the Starbase in search of supplies.

The first few food vendors he came across had pretty much standard fare, mostly spices and such too complex to replicate effectively. A few fresh fruits and vegetables and some things he devoutly HOPED were vegetables. Then he found a small, out of the way storefront on a dis-used corner of the shopping promenade. The sign glared something in Klingon, but Darius couldn't read the language.

Stepping closer, he realized he didn't have to. It was a butcher shop. A real, honest-to-Kahless butcher shop. It was amazing how many people in the Federation still ate actual meat. Most folks were content with getting their food from a replicator, which of course, wasn't real meat just a construct. Most of those who, like Darius, shunned the things ate a vegetarian diet. Real meat though, was still culturally important to many people. 

And nobody did real meat like Klingons.

Grinning to himself, Darius stepped inside and instantly revised his menu. He walked out fifteen minutes later with the same smile, a medium-ish small slab of choice roast, a few specific marinade ingredients and a black eye.

Hey, he'd let the shop keeper throw the first punch. It wasn't a fight, it was just earning the right shop there.

He returned to the first place he'd stopped at and added some bean-jelly of a type he'd used before, but could never remember the origin of. It was remarkably similar in concept to tofu from Earth, but the texture was significantly different. When added to the Klingon marinade and left to steep for a few hours, it would taste and behave almost exactly like genuine beef. That way, everybody was covered.

So, ticking it all off mentally he had his roast beef (or at least an analogue to it), potatoes for baking, and fresh greens for a salad. He also had a very, very thin wallet.  Ah well, it was worth it.

Returning to the Arabella, Darius dropped the goodies off at the Mess for storage. He still hadn't taken the time to rig a refrigerator in his quarters yet.

Jobs done, and barely six hours to his next shift. 'Sack time,' he thought. 'But first... ' he tapped his comm badge "Shane to security station."

A very harried voice came back "Go ahead Ensign." Darius didn't recognize the person on the other end, but the tone set off alarm bells.

"I called on other business," he began. "But what's the situation there?"

An exasperated snort greeted this. "You don't know?  D'Callan is down. They think he was poisoned on the Station. Docs are with him now."

"What?!" he reversed course and loped easily back towards the department office on Deck 14. Shift was early. He could sleep when he was dead.

[Jen]

Ryla pitched an uneasy gaze to Doctor Burgess, "It's positive..." The Trill then turned her eyes to the infirmary floor. Through the transparisteel, she could see Susan Caine sitting beside an unconscious Joseph D'Callan.

Bill Burgess grumbled something foul under his breath and folded his arms across a barrel chest. "Poisoned....herrphhhf...Nice catch Doctor."

"I want to move him to the Arabella, as soon as possible. I'm sure security would feel more comfortable having him aboard—it'll be easier to protect him there," said Ryla. She had a million things rolling through her head at that moment, but the thoughts that surfaced more frequently were: who and why.

Protocol demanded a report to the senior staff. Ryla would do so herself, opting to leave Susan at Joseph's bedside. There was no need for further medical intervention on Doctor Peterson's behalf; the station doctor stabilized D'Callan. Sending the report was simply a formality. Now it was just a matter of filtering the poison from Joseph's blood—a task the Trill had already begun.

"He should be fine...as long as security can keep him safe," she drew a breath and looked up at the towering station physician, "May I use your computer terminal to send my report?"

Bill gestured to his desk, "be my guest."

[Jen]

An eddy of shimmering particles coalesced to form three individuals within the ICU of  Sickbay. Ryla and Susan had materialized beside the bed that now held D'Callan; they were back aboard Arabella.

Nurse Banbee approached the doctor with a greeting and presented her with a PADD. At a glance, the medical information contained on the device answered all Ryla's questions about the woman seated on a biobed within the Main Ward: this was not Commander Sevryll.

"He's going to be fine, Susan." She said to Nurse Caine as she left the recovering Chief Of Security to introduce herself to the stranger with a familiar face.

"I'm Doctor Drett." The more distracted Ryla became with work, the more frequent the symbiont's name was subconsciously employed. She placed her medkit beside the woman and removed the tricorder, as her new patient gave her name.

"You know, you're the mirror image of Commander Sevryll," said Ryla.

Weary of hearing of her similarities to the First Officer, the Vulcan simply stared at the petite doctor.

"I'm sorry...I bet you've heard that quite a bit."

With a slight movement, the woman inclined her head in confirmation.

The tricorder soon whirred to life as Ryla opened it to evaluate her condition. After a moment she determined Sevryll was in the very early stages of labor. "Today is the day," she said with a smile as kind as the summers of her Homeworld. She closed the medkit and placed it on a nearby table. "Why don't you lay back and rest for a while? The real labor won't begin for an hour or so. I want you to be prepared for the work ahead," she said as she gently guided Sevryll back on to the table.

[X]

Joint post by Jen and Just X

Ryla scanned the woman laying on the bio bed before her, "relax.  Breath..." Sevryll tried to comply....  "there you go. Goooood." The doors to sickbay opened behind them, but Ryla remained focused on the scanner and her patient. "Do you want me to give you something for the pain?"

"Ahaaah..." the Vulcan groaned as an acute twinge seized her— she gave Ryla a curt nod and drew another sharp breath. Nurse Banbee prepared a hypo and administered the drug to Sevryll. She sighed as she rolled her head to look at the man who had been silently watching the ordeal. Ryla glanced up and acknowledged Lieutenant Commander James.

Aeric's eyes blinked rapidly. Seeing the woman who wore Sevryll's face, in labor, had taken him back to that time so long ago.

"Sir?"

A familiar voice pulled him back from a similar event in his past. Lieutenant Commander James whispered in a low voice as if his words could disturb the patient, "I'm fine Doctor. I had come to check on Mr. D'Callan and perhaps discuss the clinic, but I see that you have your hands full... How is she doing?"

Ryla looked over her shoulder at Sevryll as she stepped toward the Acting First Officer.  She gestured to a quieter area of Sickbay and lead Aeric away from her patient. "I think she's in for a difficult delivery. I'm going to let her get as much rest as she can now before the real work begins. Lieutenant Commander D'Callan on the other hand is past the worst of his ordeal and is resting soundly in ICU."

"That's good to hear. I received your report and Security is investigating now. You may be asked a few questions regarding the poison but other than that they should stay out of your hair."

"As for the clinic, we have selected two possible locations," Aeric said and handed the PADD to Ryla, sparing a glance back to the pained Vulcan. "One is on Deck Nine and the other on Deck Three, with the Deck Nine location being the larger of the two. How would you like to get it setup?"

Ryla took the PADD and studied the floor plan briefly. Glancing up she noticed him watching the pregnant woman on the opposite side of the room. "She looks a lot like the Commander doesn't she? I had a similar reaction when I met her this morning."

Aeric nodded softly, "It's hard to see that and not recall a very similar experience. I had to teach myself how to help with the gestation and delivery of a Vulcan with nothing but a database and converted parts of the shuttle we were in. The good part is that I've seen enough alternate versions of people to reduce my confusion. Still, it's hard to not be concerned when she reminds me of my daughter's mother."

Lieutenant Commander James took a slow breath and forced his attention on the face of the Trill doctor, "Floor plans ... you wanted to help come up with the layout right?"

Ryla's curiosity was piqued by his mention of converting parts of a shuttle to deliver a Vulcan child, but his abrupt change of subject told her that the moment for questions had passed. "...Yes, can I take a look at it and get back to you in a couple of days?"

The Vulcan watched the two interacting. Though she could not hear their conversation, she could read their thoughts. Flashes of imagery passed before her mind's eye—a woman in labor on a remote moon, with no one but this man to help her. This must be Oona's husband, she thought.   She resisted the urge to scan him telepathically—opting to speak to him instead. "Oona has told me about you," she said from across the room.

Aeric blinked several times and nodded absently to Ryla while turning his attention to the other Sevryll, "You ... know ... Oona?"