Posted by Captain Rende Asam (Captain) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge
Posted by Commander Kohr (Executive Officer) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge
Posted by Tom L in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge
Posted by… suppressed (6) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Mike had heard the somewhat loud to say the least thump on the floor. He turned quickly and moved in the general direction from which it had come. When he saw Kohr trying and failing at both crawling and putting together a complete sentence he could only smile and shake his head. He was just happy to see him actually trying to breath let alone do anything else. He watched him for a moment longer to ascertain his current limits before he called for a couple of orderlies. Walking up to Kohr then he looked down at him and then said in a not very kind sounding voice. “What you MUST do Commander is to get back into bed where you belong. And you will stay there until such time that I release you. If you have anything you have to tell the captain, you can call from your bed. Understood?” It was about the time he ended his sentence when an orderly took him by the upper arm and another orderly grabbed him under his shoulder as they gently lifted him toward his bed.
Ensign Mike Jones. doctor
Rende bit the inside of her cheek hard to stop from laughing. Dr. Jones might be small, compared to the massive Klingon, but he had fire in his blood, that was for sure. She watched as the two nurses bodily pick up Kohr and lift him back to the biobed. She stepped up to Jones and quietly, “What’s wrong with his legs?” A warrior who could not stand on his own two feet and fight, often made very black and white choices. Hopefully it was something reversible or would heal given enough time.
Kohr’s displeasure at having to be lifted back to the biobed fair crackled in the air, and he glared at the ensign the entire journey. There was a deep twinge of satisfaction at the fact the pair of nurses struggled briefly under the weight of his frame, but it paled against the mortification that he required help at all. The doctor did, indeed, have the authority to relieve even the captain from duty under certain conditions. The Klingon grit his teeth and nodded curtly, taking solace in the fact that he could keep himself upright. By Kahless, what was wrong with him?!
“I understand,” he growled. Then slowly he added, “So long as I am able to attend my duty to the safety of this ship and crew.”
Kohr’s wrath was averted when he noticed Captain Rende standing in the anteroom. He gripped the edge of the biobed with the impulse to rise, but with Doctor Jones hovering nearby, he thought twice. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head and instead leaned forward.
“Captain,” he bellowed loud enough to make a drill sergeant proud, “we must take Hab’rabi into custody. He has plans to take over the ship!“
—Kohr, Executive Officer—
Rende made her way into the room, glad to see he was at least sitting up and balanced on his own. The bellow, for just a moment, brought her up to an immediate at attention, head held high, shoulders back, posture perfect, and heels almost clicking together. She’d find it amusing if the situation on the ship wasn’t so dire. “Hab’rabi is unconscious and here in sickbay.” Rende pointed, directing his attention to the room across from his. “He was shot point blank by NE Sacco who…” she turned to look, “there.”
=/\=Rende to Security.=/\=
=/\=Security here, Ma’am.=/\=
=/\=I need an additional two man team up her in sickbay to guard a patient. Get them through the check points on the double.=/\=
=/\=Yes Ma’am.=/\= (OOC: Anyone, security or otherwise is welcome to play an NE or (if security) themselves, but it’s guard duty and you’ll be standing around.)
“Alright Kohr, tell me everything, teach me. And First and foremost are these motes…these lights, a threat to the ship?”
The Klingon looked at where Ensign Sacco was still unconscious, then to where Hab’rabi had found himself. The world still jerked and twitched around him, and he grit his teeth against its ebb and flow. He was very relieved that the alien lord was still out of commission. That was not, however, what bothered him.
“I do not know for certain,” Kohr said in a slow, measured tone. His gaze moved beyond Captain Rende and into that ephemeral middle distance where all mysteries held answers, searching and yet unable to grasp it. “There are no words to describe what I felt beyond a force, as powerful as a storm and yet infinitely delicate. It—no, that is not correct, they—came and…”
The commander took a deep breath to steady himself, gripping the edge of the biobed hard enough that the knuckles on the one hand paled. Leather creaked, anger crackled in the back of his throat. “Words are sand in my grasp, Captain. We struggled. They fought for control, but not as one. And then… nothing until I awoke to find myself helpless.”
“But I can still feel them,” he growled softly, staring at Rende, “like blood dripping from my mind. While I cannot logically explain why I know as I do, I am certain that Hab’rabi is not our ally. When I think of the Viking, I am filled with an urge—a hunger—for it. I look at Hab’rabi and feel a fear and loathing, and a powerful desire to stop him… and destroy him if necessary.”
Rende nodded listening, in no hurry to rush him. What few people understood was that El-Aurians go their empathy through speech. It was the emotion connected to the words that fed that sense. Hence why they were a race of ‘listenners.’ When he paused, “One of the doctors had a similar experience, but she did not report anything hostile. She recorded her impressions, perhaps, even if words are difficult, you should do the same.”
Kohr took another long slow breath. The monitors displaying his vitals showed his heart thundering in his chest, spikes in adrenaline, increased oxygen intake—all the hallmarks of an intense fight-or-flight response. Another breath, and the Klingon’s shoulders dropped a fraction. He would not allow the swirling emotions to drag him under. He gave the captain a very fixed look.
“I request to be relieved of duty and confined to quarters,” he stated flatly. “I have seen the influence these things have over our crew—a lowering of inhibition and self-control. In my current emotional state, I am a danger to our guest and any crewman that might come between us. Given my current physical condition, I would not be a boon to you regardless, and I am at least capable of sitting at a desk and assisting in coordinating our efforts should you refuse my request.”
“The doctors have found a way to detect if you are being influenced. So once they have cleared you we could use you on the bridge Cmdr. Yorba has been there for awhile. And though he is an exceptional officer it would go a long way for everyone to see you back on the bridge and coordinating our efforts.” A wicked gleam came to her eye as she appraised him, “Or maybe you should wait in the Cpt’s Yacht?”
Kohr hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “While I do not enjoy the idea of being somewhat unstable among the crew, I would prefer to focus on the mission if at all possible. Thankfully I am regaining sensation in my legs. Very well, I will return to the bridge once I am cleared for duty.”
The Klingon glanced over at Hab’rabi, and the monitors shrilled a warning at his vitals. “We must contain him—and those strange energy beings—until we are able to definitively discern his motives. That, I do know for certain.”
—Kohr, Executive Officer
“Woods is working with Weir down in engineering on a solution. And these things are running willy nilly about the ship. They should have a solution soon. But apparently, if we can hit them with a phaser it will take them out. And Hab’rabi isn’t going anywhere except maybe back to his ship, without the anti-matter.”
“We should take the opportunity to study the vessel more thoroughly if at all possible,” Kohr noted. “We have an obligation to the Federation to study this new civilization, if for no other reason than to defend ourselves from these types of encounters. There are also others of his kind aboard who may need our assistance, regardless of the misdeeds of their leader.”
“Let’s go. You heard the Captain. That means you, Tomlinson!” The NE pulled his phaser and had an energy level check. Type 2 was a standard issue for the security team, and they were allowed to carry it most times. Since the task was to protect a patient, no additional equipment was in need at this time. =^= This is Tomlinson. Comms check, Sir. =^= Clear, now get yourself up to the sick bay. =^= After smoothly passing checkpoints from Deck 8 to Deck 6, he arrived at the sick bay and opened its hatch.
NE Tomlinson, Security
Rende turned at the sound of new arrivals hoping it wasn’t a case of more ‘visited’ crew. The highly armed Captain (assault phaser rifle, boot knives, and grenades were the most obvious) was relieved it was the security detail she’d requested. T’Vor did quick scans of them both, despite having passed through two check points to get there. “NE Tomlinson, there” she pointed to one of the solitary rooms. “Position yourselves outside the door. We have reason to believe he’s going to make an attempt to take over the ship. Only Dr Semenza, his essential staff, and senior staff is allowed in, after being cleared of the motes.”
She turned back to Kohr, her hand reached for the reassuring feel of the sleek metal of her rifle. “He might be bigger than me, but that just means he’ll go down harder. He’ll learn Cmdr, no one takes my ship.”
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