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Post by Lieutenant Frost on May 15, 2009 18:59:06 GMT 12
(USS Denmark, Primary Sensory Control -- Lieutenant Amber Frost, Lieutenant JG C'Lia Reten MD 3 - 1130 hours)
Amber frowned, as she reviewed a few padds, as she entered Primary Sensory Control. Despite having the requirement of a physical, which hadn't been fulfilled yet, she had decided to take a look through section reports. This is when she discovered that the sensors were slightly miscallibrated. And since the Captain had said the Doctor was unavailable, Amber had decided to go see what, precisely, was wrong with them.
Bloop, bloop, bloop, C'lia's PADD beeped quietly as she poked at it with one finger. "Yes, Ensign. Did you calibrate the sensors to exactly six-point-oh-nine-nine?"
There was silence on the other side for a moment.
"No, sir. I thought you said that I was supposed to calibrate the sensors to six-point-nine-oh-nine..." The young Bolian ensign's voice suddenly started to stutter.
C'Lia suppressed a sigh of aggravation. "Ensign, calibrating the sensors exactly is crucial to the ships survival in most situations. Not doing so could result in us missing the energy signature of a cloaked vessel and our potential destruction. Next time, perhaps you will listen to my orders more carefully?"
There was silence over the comm for a moment. "Yes sir," said the ensign quietly, completely cowed. "Do you want me to recalibrate the sensors?"
"No, I will be heading to sensory myself to recalibrate the sensors. Reten out."
As Amber walked in, she caught sight of a rather disturbed looking Bolian ensign, who appears to have done something or other, which requires a new uniform. Amber took a secondary console, since the Bolian was apparently occupied on the primary control and programming console.
What the... Amber quickly supressed the eyebrow attempting to climb her forehead. She quickly touched a few controls, which changed the minor programming error. 6.909. Perfect. Now what, precisely is going on here. she thought, as she stared at the Bolian Ensign, and the oddly placed, and colored, fresh stain on the Ensign's uniform.
C'Lia stepped into sensory, her own eyebrow climbing. Well, hello, she thought behind mental sheields, as her eyes landed on the Ensign, the Vulcan, and then on the sensory control, which was recalibrated. "I see that the problem has resolved itself without my assistance," she said, automatically falling into a more formal tone.
Her features, usually sparkling with slight, suppressed emotion, was now impassive and calm. However, her tension was carefully writing music in her mind. "Do you now see the importance of following my orders exactly, Ensign?" she asked, her dark eyes landing on the Ensign, the seriousness of the situation making itself clear.
The Ensign looked from one officer to the other. "I... uh... I..."
C'Lia, having suffered from this herself, quickly stepped in to save him from the "logical" Vulcan questioning. "Ensign, perhaps you would like to go take a shower?" she said, one eyebrow tilting upward slightly, as she signaled with her eyes, Go, I'll cover for you.
The Ensign looked at her gratefully.
"I will expect a full report later, Ensign Bizz. Dismissed."
The Ensign beat a hasty retreat out of the area, practically breaking into a run in the corridor.
C'lia wasn't able to suppress the twitch of amusement around the corners of her lips as she turned back to the other officer. "I am Chief Operations Officer C'Lia. You are?" she said, making her last statement into a questions.
"Lieutenant Amber Frost, Chief Science Officer." Amber said, as she noticed that the sensory system had a few file-transfer problems, and a couple of faulty computer up-links to some other departments. She tapped a few commands, re-pairing, and re-directing some minor files to make the system slightly more efficient. "If that Ensign is not capable of keeping these systems efficient, and properly operating, I'm going to have to find another department for him." She said, absentmindedly. Repair File Table 34246785, re-direct up-link from sensor 433 to the proper Database Table. She shook her head, and continued tapping at the console.
C'Lia paused, then carefully headed to an access panel and began sorting out a few of the chips, re-arranging them in a more highly profitable, if not regulation, pattern. "However, as he is in my department, you would have to address the first officer or myself if you believed he would not be most efficient in sensory. However, I believe that the Ensign is suffering from a common emotional complication known as nervousness. He will overcome that in time, if his senior officers do not make a habit of pointing out embarrassing situations in front of other officers." Her voice gained a slight edge as she re-sealed up the panel and turned back to Amber.
"It is not the fault of said senior officers, if he has so little control over his emotions that they commonly create embarrassing situations. In addition, such embarrassing situations could potentially damage the electrical systems in this area." Amber retorted. A few new chess strategies popped through her mind, and she quickly finished up with the data table repairs.
C'Lia lifted a single eyebrow and suppressed the urge to frown. "Perhaps it is the fault of the senior officer to blame such things on the fact that every species is not Vulcan without knowing the history behind the officer. This is Ensign Bizz's first posting. In being put on the spot by a senior officer when he has made a serious mistake about bodily functions that are embarrassing to emotional races, you have only succeeded in swelling that nervousness. That is inefficient. I have learned that almost any officer will perform in a more efficient manner if they are calm." She shrugged, and began calibrating the long-range sensors, which the Ensign hadn't gotten to yet.
"Indeed, efficiency is important. However, had that board been shorted out, this entire ship would lose complete and total access to the sensory array. However, I will keep your' advice in mind. It bears some meditating." Amber noted, as she looked over the repaired tables. Much better. she thought to herself.
"Thank you," she said, the very human response slipping past her lips. She flinched, inwardly, and added a few choice curse words to keep the flinch company. Her fingers danced over the controls as she was suddenly very, very, very focused on the panel in front of her. That was not the best response, she thought darkly.
Amber, however was far too emersed in inner thoughts, including chess, chess, several new possible ways of redirecting data through the data-tables in the sensory control room, and a quiet voice in her head reminding her that she still required her physical. "At any rate, I have to report in to Dr. Collums. " Amber said, absentmindedly. "Now that everything here is in order." She added with a nod to C'Lia.
Well, that was a godsend, she thought with a dramatic inward sigh that she would let out in front of exactly two beings in the galaxy. The Doctor and her cat. "Noted," she said, using a very, very, very Vulcan response. "I would not be late, though Doctor Collums does seem to be somewhat more lenient than his assistant."
Amber was already half-way out the door. "Acknowledged." was all she said.
This exercise in embarassing Bolian Ensigns, and attempting to short out sensor-relays with bodily excretions was brought to you by: Lieutenant JG C'Lia Reten Lieutenant Amber Frost
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Post by Lieutenant Collums on Jun 10, 2009 17:08:01 GMT 12
(USS Denmark, Holodeck One -- Ensign Lak, Lieutenant Collums -- MD3, 1300)
Matt had tried to get a decent night's... day's sleep, but just hadn't been able to stay asleep. A brief contemplation of the med cabinet for a sleep aid had quickly reminded him how much most of them turned his stomach, and thus he decided that he'd try and catch a holoprogram or something to try and bore himself back to sleep, always a worthy goal. As it was, he somewhat blearily stumbled into holodeck one, unaware that the holodeck was in use.
Lak pushes a few buttons. A simple mechanical-looking orb appears, and Lak calls out, "Scan Program Amodoon-One. Scan routine two."
After a moment of looking around, Matt's somewhat tired voice finally manages to get out, "Oh, I'm sorry, Lak. I didn't realize this 'deck was in use."
Lak turns around and is quite startled. "Well, I didn't realize you were here either. Computer, save and shut down all running programs on this holodeck," Lak commands. "Please, feel free to use whatever you want, Doctor. What I'm doing can wait. You clearly need some holodeck time now," Lak noted, taking in Matt's drowsy appearance.
"No, no, please, continue. I'm looking for something to try and put me back to sleep, but the odds are pretty good that I'm up until late tonight now." Matt grins a little, rubbing his face with a hand and motioning. "...mind if I watch?"
"Well, it's not really going to be interesting. You're just going to be watching me press buttons and an orb flash lights," Lak noted. "Perhaps I could assist in finding a program for you?"
Matt pauses for a long time. "Either something soothing and quiet to try and help me sleep, or active and physical to wake me up. Remember I'm not exactly in the best of shape."
"Well, those are kinda opposites, aren't they?" Lak asked. "Which one do you want more?"
"At this point, I might as well stay up. I'll be a bit grumpy, but at least I might sleep tonight. Got something we can both do?"
Lak thinks for a minute. "I think there might be something... Yeah, that'll work. Computer, run Lak-13."
The computer responds, creating quite an interesting landscape. Lak and Matt find themselves standing a few steps down from a piece of land. Dirt surrounds a patch of mostly grass that is somewhat diamond-shaped. About 30 meters down the sides, another dirt region connects the two sides where dirt is located, dividing the grass in two zones. There is a small, raised patch of dirt inside this smaller piece of grass.
A chainlink fence works around two sides of this field, and the other two sides are bounded by concrete and empty stadium-style seats. Down an adjacent side is another recess similar to the one Lak and Matt are standing in.
Matt looks around, then scuffs some of the grass under his feet. "...baseball?"
Lak nods an affirmative at that. "I was looking around the database, saw it once, tried it, and liked it. Wanna play?"
"You don't have nearly enough players, though. We had a team in high school... I watched a few games, but I definitely know there were more people than just two."
"Well, of course. The holodeck can create more than just scenery! Computer, add two baseball teams, early 21st century. Place one in each dugout."
The computer obliges, adding players. The players nearby have jerseys labeled "Padres" and the ones on the other side... although it's hard to see from here... seem to read "Dodgers".
"...okay, so what team are we on, and what positions?"
"We're in the Padres dugout, so I'm guessing we're the Padres. Since you're new to the game, I'm recommending you play outfield. You can play anywhere you want, though," Lak explained. "We'll be the new callups."
"Outfield's fine." Matt sounds rather distant, looking out over the field with a slightly puzzled expression on his face.
"That would be out there," Lak said, pointing towards right field. "Take a glove, and if a baseball comes your way, try to catch it. If you don't think you can, though, make sure it doesn't get behind you."
Lak grabs a piece of paper, looks at it, and marks it up a bit.
Matt nods, grabbing a glove, then pausing a moment. "...Computer, age glove leather and soften it by about 15... no, make that 25 years."
The glove ages, the leather discoloring and mottling a bit, then he slips it on his hand with a slightly boyish smile. "...just right." He trots out into the right outfield.
The motion is noticed by someone wearing "44" on his back. "Whoa, rookie," he says, stopping Matt. "I think you forgot something," he informs him.
"...oh, right. Sorry, was a little lost in time for a moment, there." He trots back into the dressing room and quickly "switches" to appropriate clothing, getting rather into the character of it.
Lak does the same, smiling at him. "That caught me too, the first time. Don't worry about it."
"No big deal." He flashes another grin at Lak, and then trots back to his designated position.
Lak wearily sighs then motions to "44". "C'mon, Jake, let's get this show on the road." He puts his gear on and heads out to the location behind the plate.
(USS Denmark, Holodeck One -- Ensign Lak, Lieutenant Collums -- MD3, "Bottom 1st")
After an uneventful first half-inning, the Padres trot back into the dugout. Number 20 calls out the batters, "Alright, we got Gerut, Eckstein, and Collums."
Lak and Matt watch as Gerut pops up the first pitch, where Dodgers #15 makes an easy play on the ball. Eckstein walks up to the plate. "You're on deck," Lak informs Matt.
"Oh, right..." He heads out to the spot and begins hefting two bats around in light practice swings, waiting.
As Eckstein takes five pitches in succession, only one of them being called a "strike," he trots to first base. "Now Batting, Number 10, Maaaaaaatt Collllllums!" the PA system announces.
Matt tosses one of the bats aside, then takes a single step toward home plate before pausing, rushing back into the dugout and grabbing his batting helmet and running back to the plate.
Pulling the helmet low over his eyes, he takes a rough approximation of the batting stance he'd seen thus far. Someone had said something about keeping an eye on the ball, so he watches the ball closely, twitching the bat over his shoulder.
The Dodger catcher takes a strange look at Matt, then shrugs and gives a sign. "58" twirls and releases the ball. The ball flies at Matt!
It looks pretty good, and Matt decides to take a crack at it moments after the ball leaves the pitcher's fingers. The forward foot lifts slightly, then he sinks some of his body-weight into the swing at the ball! *WHIFF!* as the ball drops under his bat, to Matt seemingly incomprehensibly.
"STEEEERIKE ONE!!!!!!" comes a very loud voice from a man standing behind the catcher.
The catcher gets the ball and throws it back to the pitcher. The pitcher looks in and gets the sign.
Matt jumps at the call, then readies for the next one.
"58" looks in and fires the ball! This one looks much like the first, although it seems to be coming significantly faster.
Matt starts to swing at the ball, but decides at the last second that he was already too late and halts his swing about a third of the way through.
The ball settles in the catchers glove. "Ball One," the umpire comments. "55" points his glove at the umpire standing by 1st base. The plate umpire makes the same motion with his arm and the 1st base umpire responds by sticking one arm and thumb up, jerking it backwards.
"Strike Two," the umpire corrects. The catcher throws the ball back to the pitcher.
Matt smiles slightly, although he's sweating hard, then frowns as the call is corrected, then draws his bat back again, readying for the next pitch, glaring at the pitcher.
The pitcher glares back. He reaches back and throws... to first base. The runner JUST gets back in time.
"7" tosses it back to "58" and "58" takes a minute before reaching back and throwing. This ball seems to be only as fast as the first one.
Matt drops his aim slightly and swings for this one with everything he's got!
The ball sails high up in air... like a wounded sparrow. The ball settles in "58"'s glove easily. "Yer Out!"
"Aw, crap." He tips his helmet at the umpire, then at the catcher. "Gentlemen." And trots back to the dugout, tossing the bat aside.
Lak steps up to the on-deck circle as Gonzalez steps up to the plate. Gonzales swings at the second pitch and hits a deep fly ball into left-center. The big dude with dreadlocks races for the ball but it drops in front of him for a single.
"Now batting... Number 13... Lak!"
Lak steps up to the plate and waves his bat menacingly. "58" throws a fastball and Lak connects with it, driving it right between third base and second base. "15" reaches up and catches it quickly, ending the inning.
Lak sighs and heads back to the dugout, putting his gear on.
(USS Denmark, Holodeck One -- Ensign Lak, Lieutenant Collums -- MD3, "Top 3rd")
An inning later, and #27 steps up to the plate. On the fourth pitch, Jake hangs a curveball and the batter swings and hits a high fly ball into deep right field.
Matt snaps out of his reverie, realizing the ball is finally coming his way for the first time this game. Eying the ball, he decides it'd go over his head and he runs back and to his right to get under the ball. Just like Dad used to do! A few more steps, and he lifts the glove up, glancing just above to line up the ball, then bring it up a bit for the catch.
The ball dips down and hits the arm holding Matt's glove. Reflexively, he steps back and it drops in front of him.
Matt immediately drops down, grabs the ball and fires the ball at first base, throwing a little high to make up for his less powerful throw.
#27, realizing where the ball was thrown, has the sensibility to take off for second base. Gonzalez takes the ball on the bounce, but it's too late -- it's a double!
Fortunately, there's no harm done -- as the next three batters fail to hit the ball out of the infield. Inning over.
(USS Denmark, Holodeck One -- Ensign Lak, Lieutenant Collums -- MD3, "Bottom 4th")
Another inning later, and Matt finds himself leading the inning off.
Grabbing a couple bats, he gives them both a quick couple swings before picking one, grabbing his helmet and trotting out to take his spot in the batter's box. He's clearly been watching people work as he's gotten actually a lot closer to the official-looking stance, although he still does things that are more for show and goofing off than anything else. He chuffs the dirt in the spots for his feet lightly, then taps the bat on the plate before bringing it up to hover over his shoulder, a quick glance at the catcher before focusing on his nemesis... the pitcher. He's sorely tempted to aim at the guy's left nostril.
"58" looks in and fires the ball at Matt!
Matt immediately decides this is his ball and swings hard at it.
Unfortunately for Matt, as he swings the ball ends up clunking the bat right where his hands are. It easily rolls foul, and Matt may have felt that.
Matt's hands sting like crazy and he immediately staggers out of the box, dropping the bat in the process and biting his lip to prevent any... untoward reaction. A few moments of silently screaming in his head as he holds the hand tightly.
"You okay, man?" the catcher asks. "Strike one, you swung," the umpire comments.
Matt's eyes twitch, the smile entirely gone from his lips. "Yeah. I'm fine." He snags the end of the bat and gives the pitcher a look of genuine hatred, then focuses on the ball to the exclusion of all else as he steps back into the batter's box, more vigilant against a repeat.
"58" looks in and fires the ball in Matt's direction -- although not *at* him.
Twitch. Lean forward. His lips whisper as the bat comes smoothly off his shoulder, Destination: Ball, "Going up your left nostril, '58'."
Doesn't Matt wish. However, the ball heads down the first base line. "7" reaches for the ball but can't come up with it and the ball bounces to right field.
Matt takes off for first base, feeling suddenly like a cow in a horse race as that distance stretches in front of him. Make the base, make the base, make the base... fumble the ball other team, fumble the ball, fumble the ball. He's running all out for it, puffing hard.
Matt suddenly finds first base fast approaching. The first base coach seems to be pointing towards... second base?
He blinks, puzzling over it for a moment, then swings a little wide so he can tag the base and keep running, getting red in the face. Don't look don't look don't look, if you see the ball, you'll never make it!
The right fielder runs to the wall and grabs the baseball. He heaves it towards second base. "13" cuts it off, turns and... "Slide! Slide! Slide!" someone shouts, interrupting the writer's train of thought.
You might as show a red cape to a bull and ask it to calm down and have a nice cup of tea. He takes a step closer than he thinks he needs to and goes for the belly slide, leaping through the air with all the grace and poise of a whale being rolled back into the water by Greenpeacers, fingers outstretched for the base.
"15" receives the throw from "13" and slams his glove down... half a second too late. "SAFE!" the umpire declares.
Matt blinks surprised, then waits for several long seconds for two things... his breath to return and for the ball to be tossed back to the pitcher. Just in case.
He'll get up when at least ONE of those happens.
"15" stares and waits. "Ask for time! Ask for time, you meathead!" the third base coach shouts.
"Time!"
"TIME!" the umpire agrees. "15" shrugs and throws the ball to the pitcher. "Not bad, rookie," he comments.
Matt stands up and gets back on the base, dusting himself off. "...thanks. I may not know the rules very well, but I'm not... well, not THAT stupid."
"15" walks back to the shortstop position, ignoring the runner.
Gonzalez steps up and launches the first pitch to Right Field. "16" runs back a few feet and settles under the ball.
Matt takes two steps off the base, but watches the ball carefully to see if it's likely to be caught before he actually tries to run anywhere.
The right fielder makes the play on the ball, catching it and throwing it in.
Matt tags the base quickly, then takes off for third at a hard run.
"13" grabs the ball and fires it to "23". "23" puts the tag on, again a bit too late, as Matt slides in under the tag.
Lak asks for time before stepping up to the plate. He walks over towards third base.
"Matt, how do you feel?" Lak asks him.
Matt grins at Lak, then says, "I feel like a donkey in a horse race. And man am I sore. How about you?"
"I'm feeling pretty good. I'm wondering if you'd be interested in trying a squeeze bunt."
"What's a squeeze bunt?"
"I'm going to lay the ball down the line between 3rd and home. You'll charge home. The idea is to surprise and confuse the defense enough for you to score."
"Sure, I'm game. Confusion to the enemy and all that schtick. Let's give it a shot!"
Lak runs back towards the plate and says, "I'm ready. Let's do this!"
"58" throws the ball and Lak takes a step out of the way. "Ball One," the umpire comments.
Matt sticks close the base, waiting for his opportunity to score.
The catcher throws the ball back to the pitcher. The pitcher reaches back and throws harder. This one, Lak can't get out of the way of, and it hits him right in the helmet. "Dead Ball!" the umpire shouts. "TAKE your base!"
Lak falls over, stunned by the helmet blow.
"TIME OUT!" Matt runs for Lak, medical instinct taking over for gameplay now.
"The ball's already dead," the umpire informs Matt.
"Sorry, whatever." Matt gently takes Lak's helmet off and examines him carefully with the tools he has immediately available, i.e. his hands and eyes. "You okay, Lak?"
"Unh... I think I'm done for now," Lak comments. "20" rushes out and takes a look at Lak as well. "You okay, rookie?" "Computer... save... game." "Please restate request."
"Computer suspend program with current state."
The holodeck reappears.
Matt stands up slowly, offering his arm to help Lak up. "Let's get you to sickbay, Lak, get you some painkillers and a medscan."
"Beam..." Lak suggests.
Matt nods, then presses his combadge. "Computer, emergency medical transport, direct to sickbay." The pair of them disappear into a whirling shimmer of sparkles, only to reappear in the mostly-quiet sickbay, a nurse idling in the back picking dirt out from under her fingernails with a tongue depressor.
Lak groans and stumbles up onto a bed. He points at his head and groans again. He's been doing a lot of that lately.
Matt injects a standard painkiller and immediately flicks the tricorder he snagged over the injured spot.
After a second or two, Matt realized that the tricorder is rather... fuzzy. He blinked a few times, with the effect of suddenly getting a view of two tricorders, both fuzzy, then he called, "Adrian! Need you to take over!" Another couple blinks.
Adrian smoothly took the tricorder from his hand. "My pleasure, Doctor," he said with a slight smirk. He passed it over the injured spot, poking at the tricorder carefully.
Lak patiently waits for the new doctor to examine him. This one seems... different.
"Well, Ferengi in starfleet," muttered Adrian. "And I thought I'd seen everything," he said. "What's your name?" he asked, attempting to make conversation, somewhat absorbed in his work.
"My name is Lak," Lak replied a bit quickly. "What's yours?"
"Lieutenant Martinez," said Adrian in a lazy tone. "What did you do, fall down a Jefferies tube?" he asked, running a dermal regenerator over the ear.
"Fell on my ear. In the holodeck. Playing baseball," Lak admitted. "Pitch hit me."
"Baseball..." said Adrian with slight contempt in his voice. "I have found that watching paint dry is more interesting. But if that's what you like..." he finished with a flourish, spinning the regenerator around his finger.
"It is. And I'd appreciate it if you kept negative comments to yourself. This is Starfleet! Life is great! You should be happy! Even injured, I'm still positive!" Lak announced loudly. Please don't shoot me please don't shoot me please don't shoot me
Adrian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a condescending grin. "Obviously you've done more to your head than I realized," he said, flicking open the tricorder. "Exactly how hard did you hit your head?"
"I was standing, and a 90-mile-per-hour fastball hit me in the ear. What do you think?" Lak shot back sarcastically.
"Gentlemen, please, contain your spats to when I'm not fighting a splitting exhaustion headache." Matt shook his head, then regretted the decision immediately.
"I believe that you probably have a concussion, Master Ferengi," said Adrian cooly. "Which probably is the reason for your rather... erratic behavior," he said with equal sarcasm.
"This is perfectly normal for me, I assure you."
"Are you arguing with a senior officer and your medical officer?" asked Adrian, his voice not harsh, but condescending. "Not exactly the most intelligent thing."
"I know my own behavior! Hello?"
"If you have a concussion, you don't," retorted Adrian. "Would you try to stay still for once in your life?"
Lak attempts to stay still. He keeps looking around though. "Can you please just hurry up?"
"Keep arguing with me and I'll run a scan for the Argelian flu and then send you over to Lieutenant Tanith for an attitude adjustment," he finally snapped, flicking a control on the tricorder.
"I'm trying. It's not easy."
Adrian deigned not to answer, snapping the tricorder closed and picking up a hypo. Switching the canisters, he quickly injected in the Ferengi's neck. "You'll survive. Adios," he said, waving his hand toward the door.
"Good-bye to you too," Lak replied irritably, then left, wincing. That has to be the most annoying person I've ever met.
"...you've got the bedside manner of a ticked off bear woken up during hibernation, you know, Adrian." Matt shakes his head. "...and on that note, I should try again to catch some shuteye.
Adrian drew himself up. "Only when insulted, Doctor Collums," he said pompously.
This poorly-played baseball game brought to you by:[/i] Ensign Lak, Assistant Chief of Security, USS Denmark Lieutenant Matt Collums, CMO, USS Denmark [/size]
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Post by Captain Falla on Jun 10, 2009 17:17:20 GMT 12
(USS Denmark, Counselor's Office -- Lieutenant Tanith, Ensign Lak -- MD3, 1600)
Lak takes a look at the door a bit nervously. He was coming here mainly due to worry itself, and yet this didn't worry him any less. But he *had* to know... could there be a psychological reason behind his constant fallings? He sighs, and reaches up, chiming the door.
She rubbed her eyes and finally looked at the clock. 1600! Where'd the day go? She stretched in her chair. The room chirped, letting her know there was someone at the door.
Tanith struggled to her feet. "Room," she said tiredly after she was sure she could stand up straight. "Open the door." The tiredness was out of her voice, now.
On the other side was a Ferengi Ensign.
Lak looked around the room and he visibly flinched at the site of the Counselor. As a Ferengi, he had a rather known distrust of Klingons, and mixing with a Vulcan didn't really help.
Tanith noticed the flinch. It hurt her. There was no escaping the effects of her parents' choice in having a hybrid. She didn't show how much it pained her, but she put on a smile. "What can I do for you, Lak," she asked
"I... I... I need infor-for-mation," Lak stuttered. "I've been, uh..." Lak takes a quick look around. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. But... I've got no one else to turn to. This IS her job, after all. Lak looks around briefly and asks, "Mind if I s-sit down?"
Aine Tanith beckoned him in. "Of course I don't mind if you sit. Pick a spot." She waited for him to sit before seating herself opposite him.
Lak found himself a normal, utilitarian chair and sat down in it. The door made a swooshing sound as it closed. "So... I've been... falling on my ear a lot lately... and it... really hurts... so I was wondering if there was anything I could do about it..."
The Counselor raised her eyebrow. "Have you seen a doctor about it?"
"The hurting, yes... but a doctor cannot stop it from happening in the first place... and I'm getting... a bit worried." Lak replied, looking down at the floor.
Tanith refrains from reaching out, not sure what the ensign would think of it. "Do you know why you keep falling?"
"Well... kinda... I start flapping... then I fall..."
Trying not to laugh, Aine grabs a pen and paper. "What happens before you start flapping?"
"Uh... I could be working on something in a Jeffries tube... or getting a baseball thrown at me... but there's not really anything beyond that," Lak informs her, frowning slightly. "I just... want to stop looking foolish."
Aine nods and writes down what the ensign had told her so far. She briefly admired her made-up writing. Looking up to Lak's frowning face, she asks, "what are you thinking about when this happens?"
"Uh... I guess... the task at hand?" Lak tries, unsure what Aine's really asking.
"Do you have any flash-backs to your past? Or do you have any feelings that just come up?"
"Feelings... yes..." Lak murmured. "I generally feel frustration when I fall." Very intense frustration.
Tanith thinks for a bit. "Is that before you fall, or during and after you fall?"
"Um... all three?" Lak tries. It happens faster than I can really determine before/during/after, he adds to himself.
"So do you feel frustration at the activity you're doing?" She makes another note on her padd, possibilities.
"Yeah... Yeah, I do!" Lak responds excitedly. He smiles. "So, is that it?"
The counselor smiles. "Only if it is only frustration at whatever you're doing. If there's anything in your past--or negative feelings about yourself--that comes up, then there's more work that needs to be done." She pauses, then, "is there anything you'd like to get off of your chest?"
"Not that I am aware of..." Lak replies, trailing off. "Yes, definitely not. So, is there anything I can do to avoid falling despite frustration?"
"Well, you could watch your footing until you feel secure in your ability to not fall. When you feel yourself starting to get frustrated, just take a deep breath and count, or use another method to calm down." She makes a few final markings on her paper and closes her pad, making a note to transfer it to her Counselor's Padd later.
Lak nods and stands up. "I'll try that. Thanks... Lieutenant..." Lak pauses, realizing he never caught the counselor's name.
"It's Aine Tanith. Call me whichever you'd like, Ensign Lak."
"Aine, then. I've never understood the practice of having more than one name," Lak admitted. "Well, good day to you, Aine."
The counselor smiled. "I never understood it, either. But I use the first or last name depending on how I feel about the person at the moment. I do hope you have a good day, as well, Lak."
She walked Lak to the door and gave a small wave.
Lak gave a quick wave back. Well, that wasn't too bad.
This JP brought to you by: Lieutenant Aine Tanith, Primary Counselor, USS Denmark Ensign Lak, Assistant Chief of Security, USS Denmark
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Post by Lieutenant Collums on Jun 19, 2009 13:59:02 GMT 12
( U.S.S. Denmark, Counselor's Quarters - Lieutenant Collums, Lieutenant Tanith – MD3, 1845)
Matt had a long day... between Lak's injury, the all nighter, the few hours rest, the only partially useful catnap, and finally a little time puttering around sickbay, he'd finally gotten down on his priority list low enough to 'Introduce Self to Ship's Counselor'. He wasn't quite sure who the counselor was, exactly, although he'd seen nearly everyone that came aboard by this point, so he was prepared to be surprised by whomever might be behind the door. He rings the door chime, leaning against the wall and rubbing his eyes lightly.
Aine heard the door chime and hurriedly looked at the clock. Had it been ten hours already?! She stretched her tall form out of her chair and stood up. Lt. Tanith waved at the door and told the computer to open it. As the door opened, she was glad to see the nice doctor standing there. "Hello, Matt," she said, smiling.
He blinks, then smiles. The person who'd had such a fit with his assistant over headaches. Yes, he did get to be surprised at this one. Come to think of it, Adrian had mentioned she was a counselor. "Aine Tanith, right?" He steps inside the room, allowing the door to close behind him.
Aine's grin widened. "Yes. And you're Matthew Collums. Did I get that right?" She gestured towards the trio of furniture, a couch facing a hard chair and a soft one. "Would you like to have a seat?"
"Sure." He heads over to the couch and takes a seat, sitting leaning forward with elbows on his knees. "I mostly wanted to chat with you, see where we're going to draw the line between our two roles."
Tanith sits down on the hard chair. Her eyebrows draw together in obvious confusion. "What do you mean, draw the line?" She sits ramrod straight in her uncertainty of Matt's meaning. "What roles?"
"Well, some problems are a matter of medication, others a matter of sit-down discussion. As far as I'm concerned, I'd rather you dealt with the mental health issues, it's more a question of who prescribes the meds when needed. My last class on psychiatric counseling was a long time ago, after all."
She resisted the urge to 'hmm' and her eyebrows slowly made their way to their proper place. "I'm not allowed to prescribe medication," she said. "I don't have the training for that. If I find I need to, then I'll talk to the doctor--with your consent, of course." She tilted her head to the right. "I would not say anything you don't want me to."
"All right, then. Whenever we come to that point, we'll work together to determine the pharma needed." He smiles at her. "Mind telling me a bit about your background?"
Smiling, she recalled her Academy days. "I went to the academy when I was sixteen. There I studied as many different species as I could. Their thought processes captured my attention and I began to study not only their thoughts, but how their bodies and behaviors were affected by their thoughts. However, I couldn't really grasp the different chemical reactions and other neurological functions. That is why I'm not a psychiatrist, but only a psychologist."
"Ah, got it." He leans back slightly. "I've spent most of my career at Starfleet HQ on Earth, myself. Graduated from Med school before going to the Academy, then spent most of my time in research, picking up the occasional hospital shifts and the like while I was there."
Aine's grin broadened. "I wouldn't know what it's like to live on a planet. How did you like it there?"
"Oh, Earth is beautiful..." He leans back even more against the couch, getting a dreamy look on his face. "Gorgeous trees laden with peaches right outside your office window... tall mountains overlooking the moving, living sea... cities bustling with people, lit bright at night..."
Her eyes light up at the description. She had seen pictures of earth and other planets, but it just wasn't the same as seeing it in real life. "I bet you loved it there. What got you into Starfleet?"
"Oh, that's easy... all the interesting science happens in Starfleet. I've researched more odd, unusual or alien diseases in a few years of Starfleet than an entire career in the private sector."
Laughing, Lt. Tanith leans back. "Yes, Starfleet certainly is interesting. What have you learned in your position?"
"Ah, never assume the worst, nor take the obvious answer as your only one." He smiles a little. "What about you? What took you into Starfleet?"
"That is good advice," she rejoined. "For me, I got myself sold to a pair of Starfleet personnel in disguise as Klingons. They pretended to want me because I'm half Vulcan. She smiled at the memory. The officers played it rough with me but the shorter one actually enjoyed it. Growing up in this particular slave ship called the THE Kaur, I was schooled and taught so that I would get a higher price. Surprisingly, I was able to have my own opinion and do my own things. The Captain of the ship preferred to deal in unbroken slaves so that they wouldn't have his influence. Because his buyers loved to get untainted slaves, they gave him more money. It was just so that I could basically do anything I wanted-- the captain's son really liked me though I couldn't return the affection. But I was able to, with his help, set up a buyer for myself."
"Sounds like you chose the right buyer." He's put his hands behind his head as he's been listening. "So, they got you out, but why'd you join Starfleet?"
Aine nods. "I did. I'm empathic. I knew from my experience on my ship how people interacted. There were different personalities that interacted in different ways with other ones. And experiences of the people played a key role in how they interacted and behaved. All of that fascinated me, and I wanted to know why this was. Also, I had seen how it hurt people to be there instead of where they were. Some found it an improvement, but..." She shakes her head. "My primary goal, besides wanting to get to know the field of psychology, is to help people with their experiences and behaviors."
"Empathic that strongly?"
Nodding, she says, "I can feel emotions. In the ship, I usually kept myself apart from everyone, aloof. It wasn't until I got to Starfleet Academy that I learned to shield myself."
"Ah, good. I have to admit, seeing how heated things were getting between you and my assistant, I was wondering why... now I have a pretty good idea why you were so annoyed." He chuckles.
She straightens up. "I was in pain, and it was hard to keep my shields in place when his emotions were so strong..." Trailing off, she sighed. "I hadn't expected to need it, anyways. If you hadn't come, I think the Captain would have found himself in the Sickbay."
Matt laughs a bit. "I have the distinct impression that you are not the only one to feel that way."
Aine joins in the laughter. "Yeah. That one needs some work." She shakes her head.
"I'd send him to you, but you two would be oil and water. And, besides, clashing with another personality is hardly grounds for a counseling session."
"Oh, yeah, I do know that. I just hope that he'll be able to continue working without being ordered to see me." She smiles.
"Short of genuine mental breakdown, I don't intend to. Although, let me tell you, Counselor, you're likely to have your hands full on this tub."
Aine smiles. "In your case, I hope you come here without being ordered. I like talking with you." Nodding her head, she replies. "I know I am."
"Hey, I'm always up for a friendly chat. Feel free to stop by my office if you need to vent after some particularly tough session or day." He rises, sensing that the conversation is winding down. "My proverbial door is always open."
Standing up, as well, Aine holds out her hand. "So is mine," she says, smiling. "Thank you for the invitation."
He takes her hand and firmly shakes it, smiling. "Consider it professional courtesy if you'd like, but I consider it a personal invite."
Her grin widens. "I will, thanks. I'd love to get to know you better."
"Same here." Releasing her hand, he turns and heads to the door. "I'd better go and get some more... useful sleep. These bags under my eyes are starting to get a little too obvious."
Chuckling, Aine nods. "That would be a good idea. As for me, I'm going to continue looking over bios, psychology texts, and things like that. Have a good sleep, Matt."
He makes an idle wave at her over his shoulder, tossing a grin with it, and heads out.
Lt. Tanith shakes her head at the meeting and goes back to her desk to finish studying.
This joint post brought to you by:[/i] Lieutenant Matthew Collums, Chief Medical Officer, USS Denmark Lieutenant Aine Tanith, Counselor, USS Denmark [/size]
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