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Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Price of Existence

Posted Feb. 21, 2022, 4:20 a.m. by Lieutenant Commander Peter Sigmundsson (Chief Intelligence Officer) (Hjortur Ingi)

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharah Fayth (Medical Officer) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Price of Existence

Posted by Lieutenant Issac Forgrave (Chief of Security) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Price of Existence

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Peter Sigmundsson (Chief Intelligence Officer) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Price of Existence
Posted by… suppressed (7) by the Post Ghost! 👻

—[SNIP]—

She stared at Hab’rabi, her mind touching his, ‘No…Hab please! These people, on this ship will help us. The wraiths, they took my mother! Don’t let them take us, too!‘ Us? Sharah shook her head, those were not her words, nor her memories…what was going on?

Issac frowned at the prone man. He wasn’t exactly sure of what Hab’rabi was suggesting, but he had a strong suspicion - and he did not like it.
“So, you are suggesting that NE Sacco attacked you with excessive - potentially lethal force, despite no apparent danger to his life or the ship?” His tone was bitterly cold; and his expression matched. “I would like to think that no-one under my command would behave in such a manner, but such a severe accusation cannot be ignored. I would be required to launch a full investigation; to include witness statements and a full psyche eval for NE Sacco. After all, if the man’s judgement is that poor, well, I would be lax in my duty to ignore such a dire incident.”

Issac gave Hab’Rabi a hard look. “Frankly, I don’t believe that your statement of events is entirely accurate. And I take offense at your suggestion that I effectively ignore these specific events.” He sighed, and his gaze softened somewhat.

“My suspicion; unfounded as it is, is that someone - or something aboard your ship disagrees with you; and used NE Sacco to further their ends. I don’t necessarily expect to get any solid answers on this matter, and I could well be wrong. But your description of the Remnants doesn’t exactly line up with everything that’s happened here. As I said, I’d sure like some answers; and I’m hoping you can give me something better than ‘Cultural differences.’ At the end of the day, I’d like ta trust you and yours; and maybe even try and help y’all. But y’ain’t making it easy, Hab’Rabi.”

-Forgrave, CoS

Hab’rabi’s eyes fluttered shut, and his chin dipped a fraction toward his chest. While still in repose, composed and calm, the alien lord fair exuded disappointment. There was the barest shake of the head, a sense of resignation as much as frustration. He took a slow breath and let it out silently, relaxing further into the biobed. Eyes opening slowly to fix themselves on the ceiling, Hab’rabi made a thoughtful sound.

“Offense was not my intention, I assure you. It is a pity we were unable to come to an understanding, Praetor.” The alien lord tilted his head back, seeming to take in more of the room in which he found himself. “I can respect your struggle; I am hoping that you can appreciate mine. You are responsible for how many? A thousand souls, all told? I and mine could be the last of our kind. I have found myself at the mercy of forces beyond my control, relying on hammers when I require razors. I had hoped you a man who could read between the lines—a curious phrase, if I may be so bold—but I do not believe such is the case. It is not a condemnation of your kind, merely a divergence between our cultures.”

The NE slowly approached the side of the interview. He found that the Chief was in business. He whispered to a senior who appeared to be the Intelligence Officer and relayed the order from the Captain.

NE Tomlinson, Security

“I have not misrepresented my exalted ancestors in any degree,” he continued, this time with a bit of edge to his tone. “Their duty to the preservation of our people is as righteous as my own. I believe you feel as though you have a very sound theory as to what is happening aboard your ship, and I encourage you to pursue all avenues open to you. I will, of course, cooperate so long as it does not interfere with my mission or jeopardizes the survivors aboard my ship. I would also encourage you to disabuse yourself of the notion my remnants mean any of the living ill—such emotion is beyond and beneath them. Now if you—”

A chirp rippled through the air, and a voice called through the comm system. =^=Attention, all decks! This is Lieutenant Bowman in Engineering. Please stand by while we initiate a static warp field. As disorientation is common during field attenuation, more-sensitive species are advised to brace. The process should take no more than thirty seconds; crewman who experience prolonged symptoms are advised to report to the nearest medical team. Field will engage in ten seconds. Bowman, out.”=^=

Hab’rabi sat bolt upright, an expression etched deep into his features that could only be described as panic. “You cannot!”

“What?” Issac was caught every bit as off-guard as the rest; though he was more confused than fearful. He wondered if this was the ‘other shoe’ he’d feared; and why Hab’rabi was panicked.

Fayth moved forward at his obvious distress, she must help her Hab. She shook her head a bit, passing Tomlinson. Not her Hab, the other’s Hab. Then her knees shook, having lived so long with the disorientation of her gifts, she was able to maintain for a moment as the vertigo of the warp field began to ripple through. Then the vertigo became unbearable, a sudden overpowering storm engulfed her. Three steps into the room she collapsed to the floor, up was left, down was up and right was down. The horizon spun like the Multi-Axis Trainer or MAT, except it was like 10 axis instead of 3. She was unaware of the low agonized moans escaping from her. Hands to temples against the pain stabbing and hammering against her mind, only to quickly reach for the solid, flat nap, of the sickbay carpet. A desperate grab for something stable. Hab’rabi’s distress, his rolling stomach, vertigo, and refusal to give in, made Fayth feel like she’d been dumped onto a pitching sea ship. Every ounce of her self control was needed to stop the chaos from extending past her to the crew. Her awareness of those around her, the entire ship, flared and contracted in painful bursts. Like a piece of transparent aluminum bowing and warbling around her, distorting what she could ‘see’ and ‘hear.’ Her stomach pitched and rolled and she fought to keep the contents of her stomach in her stomach. Only to lose the battle, acid and bile exiting in a rush to be replaced by gasping gulps of air before it happened again. Fayth shook in a cold sweat, her mind stabbed through with red hot spikes, her vision black and her telepathy acting like an old malfunctioning transistor radio.

Semenza looked up a at the movement as Fayth went to enter the room. She looked okay, and then she stumbled, made it another three steps, and dropped. Then she threw up, and he was really worried for her. Kneeling down next to her, he placed a hand over her shoulder gently. He nearly asked if she was okay - that answer was a quite clear “no.” Instead he asked, “What happened? What do you need?”

Fayth’s stomach heaved again as Semenza laid a hand on her shoulder. Normally she would shy away from such contact, but being on her shoulder her uniform helped, or appeared to buffer the contact. Betazoids didn’t need touch to use telepathy but for Fayth it always seemed to bring into focus the thoughts of the person touching her. Unless she was prepared for it and then with strict discipline, ignore the thoughts of the person. “Acute Vertigo,” she answered as to what happened. The why she had no idea, but judging from around her it had something to do with those that had contact with the motes. She struggled to get to her hands and knees, heaving deep breaths. What did she need, if it had to do with the bioeletric static anti-neausa or anti-vertigo meds wouldn’t help. “W…water…and…compress?”

The air seemed to thicken and warp all around them, and a deep hum permeated the room so profoundly it was felt at the very fundamental level of one’s being. Forgrave felt only the barest twinge of vertigo, and only for the briefest of moments; Sigmundsson, however, rocked as the world inside his skull pitched and roiled. Nurse Hofmann moved quickly to the lieutenant commander’s side, tricorder already in-hand. She was distracted, however, as Hab’rabi pitched from the biobed and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the deck, a thick wash of semi-translucent bile that choked his throat shut. The alien lord’s eyes bulged in his head, and even on his hands and knees he swayed as if something inside him was struggling to break free. When the hum subsided, Hab’rabi fought to pull air into his lungs. Eyes still swimming to focus, he glared up at Forgrave.

“You have but seconds before I must guard my tongue once more, before they can see and hear again,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Speak quickly and concisely, and pray to whatever gods you hold dear that it is enough to save both our peoples.”
—Jas—

Fayth, med

Confusion turned to rage in the chaos. Issac was tired of looking in from the outside; not knowing the rules to this strange dance, on which too many lives hung in the balance. Sure, likely there were “reasons” to withhold the truth; to obfuscate. But it irritated Forgrave to say the least. That crap was suited for spooks like Sigmundsson; and more joy to them! He was too honest and straight-forwards for his own good; he knew that - but that was why he tried to work with those others; to compensate for his weaknesses. But as far as he could tell, all he had were more damned questions, with no answers in sight. But violence was unlikely to bring forth truth; and so he gritted his teeth. Void take you and your damned riddles!

Issac dropped into a crouch; ignoring the sick staining his pants as he locked eyes with Hab’rabi. “Void knows I got too many reasons ta cut you free and let your lot suffer whatever the unknown brings. But I won’t do that; not less I got no other choice. So, help me ta help you - what is going on? I’m blind here; give me a blasted clue, or at least tell me who they are!”

-Forgrave, CoS

The effects of the initiation of a static warp field which had affected Fayth, also had an effect on Hab’rabi, as the alien was now on the floor, and he had more than enough sick in his sickbay for the next week, between Fayth and Hab’rabi. Forgrave was more interested in answers, and they did need answers, but Semenza needed to do his job, too, and so as soon as he was able, he returned to Hab’rabi’s side with a medical tricorder.

~ Lt Semenza, CMO

Hab’rabi ignored the doting doctor, stared at Forgrave for a heavy moment. While he held onto his calm with an iron will, the electrostatic energy in his brain had intensified. It seemed to react to the static warp charge, sending a flurry of impulses along nearly every synaptic pathway in the alien’s skull. It was a marvel he could remain conscious, let alone speak!

“Wraiths,” he growled. The alien lord shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut against the pain surging in his skull. “Daemons. Wicked ancestors. Aliens. I do not know, nor do I care. They—”

Hab’rabi clutched his head and roared himself hoarse. His grey skin turned a deep shade of lilac as the blood surged in his body from the strain. He fell prone, heedless of the puddle of bile that soaked into his uniform, gasping. Eyes darting around wildly, he searched for… something. Seeing Sharah nearby, hearing her pleas, he gathered his strength and lunged.

“There is no time,” he rasped, his fingertip brushing the back of her hand. A surge of light coruscated down his arm and vanished beneath his touch. “Forgive me, young one.”

Sharah didn’t have time to react. She wasn’t nearly as bad off as their visitor, but she wasn’t doing great either. If she closed her eyes and stayed still the vertigo was managable, but ever present. With no motes actually in her brain the feeling was more of an echo than active pain. For the second time in less than a minute someone made physical contact with her. Gloves, I need to wear gloves. She stared wide eyed as the light sank into her hand. After a moment her head dropped and she was focused inward. ‘Yes, hello little one....yes, yes I understand. We must help him. Show me.’

The force of the contact pushed Fayth back onto her backside. But for the first time in her life she grateful for her condition. The information came at an incridable pace, seemingly all at once. This was nothing compared to the input of a thousand minds on one ship or a whole planet. Making sense of it was another thing. She muttered softly seemingly to herself, but to the light that had joined her. “Slow down…mmhmm…” Her monitor didn’t go off, so whatever the mote that had joined her was doing, it wasn’t taking over her. The biolectric static or increase in hormones was not present. But her paracortext was totally lit up.

Voices, images, memories bombarded Sharah in the flurry of an instant, leaving them both desperate for air. Hab’rabi curled in on himself, shivered as a fever gripped him. He grit his teeth against the pain melting his bones, fought to look up at Forgrave once more.

“Seek Legion,” he snarled, clutching himself as tightly as he could. “Aula. Vehn. Sebet. Nanach. Vilash. Taen. Kaula. Execute. Protect my people. Protect the yur.”

With a shuddering rasp, Hab’rabi went limp. The computer readouts of his vital signs reported that he had simply succumbed to pain and fainted. From the amount of toxins flooding his system, it had been a titanic struggle. It would take time and fluids for the alien lord to recover.

That, and perhaps a bath.
—Jas—

The sudden jolt, as if his entire world had been thrown upside down, almost forced Peter to empty his stomach. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, he growled as he pushed himself up, standing and looking around, his vision still blurry. He started cursing in his native Icelandic as he put a large hand on a nearby bed for support, his free hand rubbing his eyes. After a moment he shook himself just in time to see the Alien reach for the Doctor, he immediately went into action, throwing his left hand forward and feeling cold steel in his fingers but he hadn’t recovered yet and taking a step forward threw him down again. He looked up, more time had passed and Hab’rabi was not moving, he turned to Nurse Hofman “See to Fayth” He said as he stood up “I’ll just sit down here” he said dropping to the floor and leaning back against the foot of the bed.

CIO

Sharah held up a hand in a universal signal to pause as Sigmundsson reacted to a seeming threat. “He’s…it’s…not hurting me.” Though the intense amount of information she was getting was almost overwhelming. The telepathy of the motes worked differently than Betazoid telepathy. Betazoid’s could learn other types of telepathy from other species, but it took time. Sharah had no time to learn. It left her dizzy and forming a headache with the effort, of migraine like proportions. Luckily her stomach was empty.

There was so much information. She opened her eyes, fighting against the room that spun and looked around. It would be so much easier to share the information telepathically, to let wiser more experienced officers make sense of it all. Sharah didn’t need to be telepathic to notice the crew’s reaction to Hab’rabi’s statement that they were telepathic. She saw no one in the room that would readily allow her share mind to mind, and she would not force such a thing on anyone. And Lt Forgrave was leaving.

Issac remained kneeling on the sickbay floor for a moment; eyes fixated on Hab’rabi’s still form before he sighed deeply. He had registered the chaos in his peripheral vision, but his focus had remained on the stricken man; and his words. Shaking his head gently, he pulled out his old-fashioned notepad; quickly jotting down the nonsensical string of words; spelling them out phonetically while the memory was fresh. Standing, he wondered what exactly this command would do. It was an easy guess that it would be… drastic; at least by Hab’rabi’s standards - one didn’t lock away something mundane behind a seven-word passphrase.

Forgrave let his focus drift to the rest of the sickbay; taking in what had happened - he was concerned about those that had been stricken; and the clear association between them and it’s remnants (or… wraiths, perhaps?) was not reassuring. In particular, he wondered about what had transpired between Hab’rabi and Lt. Fayth… But finally he had a solid next step in front of him; and she was in the right place to ensure she was OK. “I’m headed to the bridge; comm me if I’m needed.”

-Forgrave, CoS

Having dumped the information into her brain the mote began to leave. ‘No, no. You must stay. You have to help me make them understand. Stay…help me help us all.’ Sharah explained the jumbled flow of her visions as best she could, her voice hesitant as she tried to make sense of the images swirling in her mind. Fayth collapsed against the floor, having fought for focus as long as she could. ‘Stay little one, the knowledge you share will be needed again.’

Fayth, med

Peter pushed himself to his feet as Fayth explained the visions, nausea slowly fading as he started some breathing exercises. He stretched an aching jaw “I hate non-corporeal alien invasions, don’t have the decency to have a face for punching” He growled to himself “I’m getting too old for this” He added a moment later, although he verbalized annoyance his emotional flow was focus and determination. He took a squatting position next to the doctor and put one large hand on her shoulder “You alright, kid?” He asked softly

CIO


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