Posted Jan. 22, 2021, 4:29 p.m. by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharah Fayth (Chief Science Officer) (Jennifer Ward)
Sharah was standing in the kitchen, of her quarters, cooking. After Joseph had returned to his quarters to unpack she had left to check in with the labs and handled a few reports and reviewed a few experiments that needed her attention. She was disappointed he hadn’t asked her to stay with him. But then Joseph was very annoyed with her, so she guessed he didn’t want to be around her at the moment. She had known he would be, and there was nothing she could do about it now. He was making his way through check-ins, without her as a burden. That was what she wanted, and although he was upset with her, she could not bring herself to be sorry. They usually did things his way, but just this once, she knew she was right, and she needed him to know that. Before she started to make dinner she got a message from Tabris asking her stop by. She did and was not disappointed. The project she’d asked him to help her with was done, and it couldn’t be at a better time. It was Joseph’s Christmas present. She didn’t celebrate Christmas, it wasn’t a Betazoid tradition, but it was one of his Earth traditions, and she hoped to surprise him with it. Especially since he was arriving just before the holiday occurred. Tabris, and his son Vedi, had managed to convert the power supply on it and, with Tabris’s huge horde of antiques, find the last piece she had not been able to find on her own. She was excited to give it to Joseph.
The water was beginning to boil and she was gathering the pasta to add to the water. She’d made it, and at least this time it looked like pasta and not ripped pieces of dough like the first time she had cooked for Joseph. The lemon grilled chicken was finished and sitting on a plate in the replicator keeping warm. She put the pasta in, the sauce still simmering and turned to begin cleaning up the mess she had made. Which was impressive to say the least. She was walking back from dropping the leftover pasta dough in the recycler when the noise crashed over her making her stagger. She reached out a hand to catch herself as she stumbled, her hand landing on the side of the pot of boiling water. She yelled as it burned her hand; she turned on the water at the sink and ran the cold water over it waiting for the wave to stop so she could concentrate to find her med kit.
The waves subsided somewhat, but it left her head pounding and disoriented. From memory she pulled out her med kit and the dermal regenerator from it. She set the dermal regenerator and began moving it across her hand, healing the blisters and burn. She put the machine down, placed the heels of her feet on the chair, wrapped an arm around her knees, the other resting palm up on her other arm. She rested her forehead on her forearm. She took several more minutes to right herself and surf above the noise, and then sorting and sifting through her own emotions, tossing out the ones that were stopping her from being clear headed. Joseph had taught her how do that. It was always easier when he was near, his own mind clear, calm, and quiet. She listened, ‘felt,’ the clear, calm quiet of his mind somewhere on the ship and just listened. She sat there quietly, palm sore and delicate from the burns, head down and pounding, absently tugging at her hair against the pain, while the water and pasta boiled, and the sauce began to bubble as it simmered.
Lt jg Fayth, CSO
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