Another New Ship

Posted Oct. 16, 2021, 12:14 p.m. by Lieutenant Markus Woods (Chief Science Officer) (Sam Haynes)

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharah Fayth (Medical) in Another New Ship

Posted by Lieutenant Markus Woods (Chief Science Officer) in Another New Ship

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharah Fayth (Medical) in Another New Ship
Posted by… suppressed (7) by the Post Ghost! 👻

As she stood and headed to the replicator he took a split second to both mourn and admire then pushed himself to his feet as well. He seemed stable enough and made his way after, heading into the kitchen. Pulling out a foot long section of bread, he sat it aside. Turning on a grill, he let it warm up while grabbing a knife and cutting the bread in half, producing two long pieces. On both he brushed a mixture that was like an aromatic oil. By then she made her way over with the drinks. Taking the uttaberry juice, e inspected it for a second, then took a sip. Then drained half the glass. “Been a while since I’ve had uttaberry juice,” he mused with a small smile, then snagged one of the waters.

Surprising herself, Sharah didn’t want to get up when she did. She would rather stay sitting next to Mark. “It can be a bit over powering if you aren’t used to it, and replicators always make the taste overly sweet. My father grows them and makes his own juice.”

At the same time on impulse he leaned over and planted a quick kiss on her cheek, along with a mental ‘Thank you’ burst of gratitude. Both for the drinks and the care. Yeah, she was a doctor. And looking out for crew was the job. But this was different, at least a bit. And she didn’t have to, not at all. It was appreciated.

The impulse was so sudden and his reaction to follow through so quick, Sharah didn’t have time to react before hand. Instead she stilled in surprise as his lips brushed across her cheek, and she blushed as red as the tomato sauce. She felt butterflies winging around her stomach, and not knowing what else to do she downed her own glass of juice and started on the water. Sharah was a doctor but that hadn’t been her motivation. She was simply a kind and caring individual. If she could help she would, but with Mark it was more than that. She wasn’t bothered by that but she would be hard-pressed to explain it.

Taking a moment to down half the water, he almost startled when the timer went off. Setting his glass down he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Kill that, please.” Moving over to the cooking equipment, he pulled out the dish they’d made and sat it out to start cooling. Replicating some plates and utensils, he went to plating a good sized square of the main dish. Along with it went the toasty grilled bread. Along with that came a salad he pulled out of the cooling conservation unit, and sat them out. Gesturing for her to take a seat he followed suit. “I would have included a nice wine, but… You don’t drink. And after all of that, earlier? Probably not a good combination.” He broke into a grin. It was a mild tease, but also he was being cautious and a little concerned. Better safe than sorry, right?

“I am a doctor, I don’t kill things,” a small teasing smile crossed her face, “but, I will silence it for you.” Sharah usually came off as a serious person because of all the noise. It made timing and interpretation difficult at times. She helped where she could, mostly moving things out of the way or to the table as he indicated. She sat and shook her head at his comment. “Not usually, no. It has a very strong effect on me, and I don’t trust myself ony own with it.” She knew he was teasing slightly and she shrugged with a small smile.

“So, nothing fancy. I dunno if you’ve had lasagna before. It can be a lot of steps, if you’re really going for it. But it’s so worth it. And it’s also a great comfort food, and has lots of fuel in it too.” He shrugged one shoulder casually, but at the same time was a little nervous, not knowing how she’d react.


She grinned brightly, “Fancy is overrated. Good things are worth time and effort.” She could tell he was waiting for her reaction. She picked up the fork and cut a bite off of the square on her place. It was heavy and rich and robust and flavorful. The noodles had a heavy texture and the cheese was rich and smooth. This was nothing like any pasta she had had before. He was right it was the ultimate comfort food. She moaned appreciatively around the mouthful. “Mark, this is really good. Thank you for sharing it with me.” But he could feel that she meant more than just the food.


Seeing her reaction and delight he let out a breath he wasn’t quite aware he’d been holding and nodded. “Glad you like. It’s something my mother made a lot when I was younger. Learned from her. And you’re welcome. This isn’t something I get to do often. Much less with such good company.” he flashed her another small but pleased smile, scrunching his nose up for a second then dug into his as well. She was right, the noodles came out just right, separating the layers of sauce, cheese, and filling well. As near as he could tell everything cooked evenly, without drying out or hardening anything that shouldn’t be. The salad was fresh and light, which he added a little bit of dressing to, and the bread was a good companion.

“So. Back to the holodeck conversation,” he circled back, between bites. “Got any favorite programs or holonovels?”


Sharah ate quietly, the food was good and she was enjoying it, savoring it. Going unnoticed by her everything else seemed to be held at bay, momentarily. She considered his question. She enjoyed any holoprogram really. With the safety protocols, there were many things that Sharah could attempt on the holodeck that she couldn’t in reality. There was Ashlyn’s parkour program, she enjoyed that, or she had. She didn’t find much enjoyment in that anymore. But there was one, it probably would seem very boring and ordinary for a favorite program. Oh and there was that other one, she really liked that one. There was fascination and excitement and child like joy at the thought of them. “Nothing very exciting. Did you ever go to O’Hanrahan’s, about 5 blocks from the Academy? I never did, I…couldn’t go, but I can with the holodeck.” She ate quietly for a moment before continuing. “The other…it’s…a litter of puppies and kittens.”


Focusing on food for the moment, he listened as she cycled through possible answers. He didn’t get anything specific, but it was amusing to see her go through her mental Rolodex. “Actually, I don’t think I ever did.” He took a long drink of his water, then tilted his head at the puppies ad kittens. Then nodded slowly. “I see. One of those things you couldn’t really do as a kid, I take it?” The question was simple, matter-of-fact, without pity or judgement. Though he wondered, now that she was older and had much more control, if an actual pet might some day be a possibility? What about any children she might have?


“It was just a little Irish pub type place, but everyone always talked about going there.” The crowds had been too much for Sharah and so she’d never gone. The place wasn’t really important to her, but the experience was. She nodded, stunned into not responding. He understood without her having to explain. More he actually ‘understood.’ He couldn’t empathize without living a similar experience but he did understand. She smiled, but it was slightly sad, and he could tell it wasn’t him but some memory. “Yeah one of those things. I…I had a kitten once…” but that was tied to that earlier too heavy topic for the evening. And then she shied away from his musings. [it had been a long evening already full of surprises and exhaustion, and she wasn’t ready to face those topics right now]. It was all on her, she let him feel it, he hadn’t done anything to make her uncomfortable, but the topics were for her, and she wasn’t ready, just then to explore them. But there was a silent promise that they would, eventually if he wanted to.

“Does your mom cook a lot? This is really good.”


He could feel the weight as he’d touched on something a little painful at the moment. Silently he apologized. A small ache flooded through him, less physical and more emotional as he wished she didn’t have to have experiences like whatever it was. That he couldn’t do anything about it or to fix it. As she turned back to conversations of family and home he shrugged. “Well, dad was away a lot. So it was just us. Replicators are great, but on Deneva… the spirit of hard work is still alive and well. There’s something to be said for getting your hands dirty, planting food, and making food by hand. At that point you’re not doing it because you have to. But that you want to. It’s an expression. Of self, and of caring for others. My mom might be a scientist, but she’s got a big heart. She couldn’t cook all the time, of course. Which was understood. But when she could, she did, especially if she was feeling good. I learned how from her, and returned the favor. It was something we continued after she remarried and did for my step-sister as well.”


There was a soft tired brush of thoughts against his. ‘It is my life and I’m not sorry for it. Without it I would not be here. A weaker person may not have lived so long.‘ “My father is an agricultural specialist. He travels all over Betazed and the moons helping with growing crops. We have a very very small farm, just enough for us. Mom cooked a lot, she probably still does. Dad and Andrew did most of the care, but after we got home after our trip to Vulcan, Uncle Ollie convinced them to let me work with the planting. We got a replicator when I was 12 because mom didn’t want me in the kitchen trying to cook. But dad was really amazing when he cooked. It was like he always knew exactly and when to harvest food so we had the best taste we could find.”


Mark listened intently as he finished off the last of what he’d plated up for himself. “He might be a glorified farmer,” he said with a small, wry smile, “but overall that sounds pretty great. Reminds me of home somewhat.” It was true, they had a plot they made produce with, and traded with others in their little township on Deneva for stuff they didn’t have. Replicators could fill in whatever. And Deneva, after many decades was well-established with it’s own metropolitan cities. But it still had plenty of small towns, and even wild, untamed places. At times it felt almost like being on the frontier. Almost. Even with it being well within Federation territory. Agriculture was still alive and well on the planet. Barter. Trade. The handshake deal.

Betazed was a lot like that. They had cities…or they did. A lot of the metropolitan areas were destroyed during the Dominion occupation. It was the rural and untamed places that saved their people. Sharah had never seen her world as it was, she had been born that year in the middle of it all. Her father had done a lot to save their agricultural systems and save other areas from starving.

“Maybe one day I’ll get to meet your folks. If you wish, and we’re still in touch down the road.” Starfleet was not a safe bet, and either of them could be transferred before, during, or after any cruise or posting. Not that he wanted to leave the Viking. Huh, when did that happen? Before this last cruise, he’d considered transferring to a different post. But after talking with Korczak… and now meeting Sharah. And Captain Rende… he wondered if maybe he wasn’t exactly where he needed to be. For now.


“My parents will be easy, it’s my brother that will be the issue. He’s the COS on OP 52.” It was a measure of her comfort level with Mark and her confidence in herself around him, that she responded directly to his thoughts. “We can only be exactly where we are. Wishing to be elsewhere makes you miss what you have.” [Things change in a flash so it was important to hold on to what you had while you had it.]


“Your brother, huh? I’m guessing he’s the over-protective one,” he asked. Concern came through with his tone, but at the same time, a little bit of mirth. He would be ready for her brother, one way or another. Finally getting to the bottom of his glass, he stood, picking it up along with his plate. Refilling his water, he got a little more o the lasagna and returned. “Need a reload?”

Sharah nodded, “Please.” It was good and the company was better, refreshing. But she laughed, “Andrew is, but not in the way you are thinking. He tends to…hover. when we were little Andrew didn’t understand what it was like to hear thoughts and emotions. Not until his turned on at 13. And then…he felt really bad about how he’d acted before. He became my self proclaimed guardian. He…he got really skilled at being able to anticipate when and where I would have problems. It was like he actually understood without being me.” It was hard to describe. Andrew was often the only one who could reach her through the storms - simply because he had the strength of will and through no specific skill or talent. “What your thinking of would probably be my mother. She has no telepathic skill to speak of except with my father, and that’s because…well it’s him. There were…problems…before, and she doesn’t want it to happen again.”

Taking a few moments, he refilled her drink, and another round of food, though smaller this time. It turned out pretty good, which that alone made him happy. But she was enjoying it as well, which made it all the better. Another person, would have been fine alone. But Sharah’s approval mattered more.

Settling back down he took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “So, you mentioned getting back to medical. What brought you to it? i know you like fixing things, people things better. I assume that’s got a big part to play.” He tilted his head as he regarded her, a small smile flickering along the edges of his expression.


Sharah picked up her glass and sipped slowly. “When you can feel others’ pain, how they are hurting, how they are sick, and you can’t stop from feeling it, it’s unbearable. It was for me anyway. The only way to make it stop was to help. When I was little that meant telling, but when I was 5 and in the hospital it was a nightmare. So many people hurting and sick in the same place. Once I could leave my room I started wandering. Anyway I was able to hear what the doctors were thinking, about what was wrong and how they could fix it. So I started asking questions and listening and…” She smiled a small laugh escaping, “One time I ‘spoke’ to the doctor and told him what to do. Startled him into dropping his tricorder. Because I could feel what was wrong I knew what he missed, and was able to help. After that…I don’t know, I guess, even that young it felt good to help instead of being shunned. I spent so much time in and out of their offices they started teaching me stuff, giving me old cases to look at. This thing in my head, I’m treated like I’m I’ll or dangerous, and maybe I am, but if I can use it to help people, even a little…maybe my life isn’t pointless.”


Mark nodded, filing those bits away. “That’s about what I expected,”he mused. “And that also explains how you got through med school so fast.” He flashed her a bright smile. “Girl wonder, been doing it since you were five.” Sunny warmth still radiated from him, wrapped around her gently, almost like a soft but warm blanket fresh from a dryer. “I can’t imagine doing anything less, with your abilities. And your life is far from pointless. I see purpose and drive. I see someone who’s extraordinary. I don’t see illness, or even danger.”

He paused for a moment. “Most people are insecure about so much. Worried about what others will think, or how they will react to a given action. Thought? What they wear. And so much more. And it’s all just noise. Everyone wants love, acceptance, safety, approval. And they spend so much time being afraid of getting it. And it keeps them from really connecting. They worry that the negative and dark things that go through their head… will drive others off.” He shrugged. “We all have them. It’s when we act on them that there’s a problem.” He shrugged again. “I think they’re afraid of having a light shined on those things. Or security concerns. They fear the unknown. And being at a disadvantage. But sometimes, you just have to accept the facts, and move forward from those facts. Move with hope and courage. Not fear.” Reaching out he laid a hand on her forearm just above the wrist, giving a gentle squeeze just for a moment. “I suppose it’s a leap of faith into the void. But most aren’t telepaths. Or able to read someone like a book. So of course, they’ll think you’re dangerous. Could you be? Oh hell yes, you could. But anybody that really listens telepath or not would know otherwise.”


Posts on USS Viking

In topic

Posted since

© 1991-2021 STF. Terms of Service

Version 1.12.5