Posted Jan. 28, 2023, 8:24 p.m. by Ensign Aasrel Izei (Scientist) (Lucas Foxley)
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Lieutenant Mann asked.
“It’ll be fine. It’s over, in the past, and that’s where I’d like it to stay. I… I just want to move on.” For Aasrel, that meant leaving the Lexington behind. All of it. Move on with his career and his life.
“Your last surgery was a month ago. Give yourself a little more time to heal.” The Lieutenant frowned at Aasrel, a gesture Aasrel guessed was a worried one. He was no expert at reading body language or anything though.
“It wasn’t a complicated one,” Aasrel tapped the metal plate which was still visible in the side of his head. “Not like the one before it.” He had never thought he’d go under the knife so many times in his life.
And he wasn’t done, either. If only he could find a doctor willing to attempt the remaining surgeries. A visible implant ran down his right arm, reminding him of its existence any time it was touched. There were metallic bits along his hand, over the bones all the way down to the fingertips. A second was still attached to his left leg, not visible when he wore his uniform, but could certainly be felt if one were to touch his leg. It was these he wanted removed, and it wouldn’t be that easy.
“There’s a doctor on the Ogawa… I’ve heard she’s been working on a theory to restore the empathy and telepathy to brain damaged betazoids. You could go there.” Lieutenant Mann replied, sighing. Aasrel had heard of that ship. It was a hospital ship. The mental image of a bunch of other people, injured or sick, clinging to the hope of getting better, stuck in his mind.
He did want those things back, living without them was… Well, he might as well be deaf or blind or something. “No. Not there. I don’t need a hospital, anyway, I can work. Have been working, when I’m not recovering.”
“I can recommend your transfer to the XO… Is there somewhere specific you have in mind to request?” Lieutenant Mann did not seem convinced this was a good idea. But he would not stop Aasrel from doing it, either. It was his choice, all said and done.
“Thank you.” It was all Aasrel wanted. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to deal with it. He just wanted away from it. This was how he chose to get away, the transfer.
A week or two later, he was arriving on another ship. The… He checked his notes. Memorial. He didn’t know anything about it. He hadn’t bothered to look it up, he didn’t care. It was away and whatever he was doing there, he’d do his best at it.
The transport had been a long one, and to Aasrel, that was a good thing. The more physical distance, the better he’d feel. He had virtually no belongings with him. He’d lost everything in the destruction of the Intrepid.
He stepped onto the ship, and he was reminded again exactly what he was missing. He couldn’t feel the others on the ship, empathically. There was just… nothing there. Nothing at all… And it was odd, like a strange numbness in his mind. It would come back, he told himself. If he could just get rid of the implants. Or maybe with time. But it would. Eventually. He just had to keep moving.
With that mindset, he marched his way to the office of the Chief Science Officer. He wasn’t nervous, in fact he was calm… Almost apathetic in a way. He rang the door’s chime and waited patiently, hands behind his back.
~ Ensign Izei, Science
© 1991-2024 STF. Terms of Service
Version 1.15.11
RSS Feed