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91
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH2: S [Day 2 | 2315 hrs] For all the blood-tainted stars...
Last post by rae -
[ Lt Cmdr. Jaru “Janus” Rel | Wolf-01 | Valkyrie | The Triangle ] Attn: Wolves @Hans Applegate @Dumedion @Krajin @P.C. Haring @ob2lander961 @Pierce @Stegro88
[Show/Hide]
He missed the big moment. Not missed it by not being there – because Prophets curse him, he’d been far closer to it than he would have preferred – but totally, completely ‘if the shockwave from the Valdore’s thalaron emitter exploding hadn’t hit him, he wouldn’t have even realized it had happened’ missed it.

Janus had let Shadow off guard duty, tasking her, Atlas, Archon, and Salvo to disable the ship while he remained on Knox’s defense patrol. The Romulans had figured out Knox wasn’t on their side, and the remaining stalkers had concentrated on the fighter that could see through their cloaks. Janus gave them a run for their money, helped somewhat sporadically by Knox, who either had another plan or simply didn’t know enough about the fighter he’d stolen to put up a better fight.

Eventually, his luck ran out, as was always bound to happen. His Valkyrie registered the torpedo’s target lock, a bright red line arcing starboard across his display while the HUD flashed warnings. Janus jerked the throttle hard to avoid a direct hit, but his weakened shields still took a glancing blow, a bright flash of light that ended in complete darkness as his ship died completely.

The next moment was frantic. A curse – in Cardassian no less, shit was that low – and a quick punch at the controls in the hopes that secondary and tertiary systems would boot before someone decided to blow him up.

Ironically, the shockwave probably saved his life. Knox’s flight had taken them very close to the Valdore, leaving them right in the debris field as the other Wolves disabled the Romulan flagship. Physics was friend to neither Starfleet, Klingon, nor Romulan. So when Janus took the gut punch of force throwing his ship spinning in the void, so did the second torpedo, what would have been a kill shot soaring over his canopy.

That was when the Valkyrie decided to reboot. Janus flipped along the torpedo’s trajectory before the green lights of the thrusters even fully illuminated. He recovered faster than the Stalker, two well placed phaser shots doing the job. It had lost its shields in the shockwave. Luck was fickle that way.

“Ok, now where did you—” Janus swore again when his sensors caught sight of Knox entering the Valdore’s shuttle bay. “Knox, Janus. Do not land on the Valdore. We want that fighter. I repeat, do not…” Too late. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’d better bring that back!”

At least that meant he was off guard duty.

He found Shadow and Atlas fairly quickly, angling down and coming up from below with a quick strafing run to pull some of the fire off them. Salvo and Archon weren’t there. He didn’t see them on his HUD right away, quick glances back and forth all he could manage between the shooting, flying, and rerouting power to his once again lagging shields. There they were, finally, shown only in the dim light of emergency beacons. Damn.

Archon and Salvo. Razor. And that was today. Hopefully they’d be recovered alive, unlike the other four in the last thirty-six hours. Damn. He needed more pilots. He needed more fighters. Damn.

But that was a problem for the morning. Now they had to finish up here.

“Janus, Wolves. Theurgy is putting a team on the Valdore, so disengage. Can’t blow any more of her until our people are off. Stick together and start mopping up. We’re almost done here.”

It would be over as soon as the assault team had Donatra. As long as they were quick about it.

“Should have let us blow it up.”

Fin.
92
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Epi S: [Day 03 | 0615] A Man's Purpose
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Corridor | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ] @Eden

Cross left the XO’s office with Stark’s notes still fresh in his mind, the padd secured under his arm more out of habit than necessity. He already knew the contents by heart. He always did—personnel files, medical assessments, command annotations. They were patterns, variables, probabilities. People, reduced to trajectories.

The corridor toward the recovery ward was quieter than most of the ship, and he found himself appreciating that. Theurgy never truly slept, but sickbay came close. The lighting softened. Footsteps echoed less. It was a place where outcomes were still being negotiated.

Callax Valin had not been a name Cross knew well until recently. A pilot. Talented. Disciplined. Ambitious. Stark’s notes were thorough; Ives’ even more so. Between the two of them, Cross had built a clear picture of the man—one that no longer aligned with a fighter cockpit. The injuries alone guaranteed that.

Cross paused briefly outside the recovery ward doors, centering himself out of reflex more than need, then stepped inside.

Valin was on a biobed, propped slightly upright, dressed in a standard medical gown that did nothing to hide the fact that this was not where a man like him expected to be. The pilot looked diminished only in circumstance, not presence. Cross noted that too.

He approached without ceremony.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Valin,” Cross said evenly, stopping at the foot of the bed. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Cross.” No inquiry about pain levels. No polite preamble. Cal would have already had enough of that. “I’ve reviewed Doctor Leux’s reports,” Cross continued, pale blue eyes steady. “As well as the physical therapy projections. You will not be fit for flight operations for the foreseeable future. Even with aggressive treatment, returning to a fighter cockpit would be… distant.”

He let that land, watching Valin’s reaction without staring.

“I’m not here to deliver bad news,” he added calmly. “I’m here to offer you a choice.” Cross activated the padd, though he barely glanced at it. “You’re eligible for a medically induced leave of absence. Full benefits. Time to recover without pressure. When—and if—you regain flight readiness, that path would almost certainly require a transfer off the Theurgy.” A beat. Then: “Alternatively, there is a position opening that requires a different kind of precision.”

He looked directly at Valin now.

“Command Adjutant.” Cross clasped his hands behind his back, posture formal but not rigid. “You would be assigned directly to me. Tactical planning support, coordination, personnel oversight. You would also serve as an auxiliary aide to the acting captain and—when assigned—the next permanent captain. It is not a consolation role. It is a command-track position with visibility and responsibility.”

Another pause—this one deliberate.

“Regardless of which option you choose,” Cross said, “your record supports a promotion to Lieutenant. That will proceed.” He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect rather than reassurance. “You are not a man without purpose, Lieutenant Valin. The question is whether you wish to redefine it now—or step away until you can reclaim the old one.”

Cross waited then, silent, attentive, giving the pilot the dignity of deciding his own future.
93
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi: S [Day 03 | 0145] By these wounds...
Last post by Dumedion -
[LT Arven Leux | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Ellen Fitz  @Eden
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All things considered, Arven had to admit that the situation could always have turned out worse. Still, he couldn’t help but groan then suck his teeth with an annoyed tsk after the patient spat a mouthful of blood all over the side of the biobed. Great. You know how many times has this thing been cleaned and sterilized, he grumbled silently while he procured a towel from under the bed to swipe the splatter of crimson fluid up, then mushed it up against the patient’s face.
 
“Wonderful. Open up,” Luex deadpanned before gripping the man’s jaw, while his other hand called up a detailed internal scan of his chest cavity. Seeing no lacerations to the tongue or obstructions, Arven’s eyes flicked to the scan imagery – and recognized the problem immediately. A quick glance at she-wolf preceded a curt gesture to the cabinets behind her as he talked. “Tension pneumothorax – third shelf up, white triangle, blue button in the middle. Slap it over the gap between his third and fourth rib,” Arven instructed as he typed away on the biobed’s control interface, then moved quickly to prep two hypos and jabbed them into the man’s neck.

He hadn’t had time or the inclination to engage with either of them directly, but he’d heard and saw their reactions. The patient seemed concerned for his people, which was admirable enough; the issue was, unfortunately for him, that the Doctor had no definitive answers to give – so he did what most people did: he bought himself time. “I’ll look into your people when I can,” the Doctor replied neutrally. “For now, it seems, we’re enjoying a bit of reprieve from hostilities. Best focus on yourself now.” He nodded then, then watched the patient’s vitals as his half-canine assistant activated the internal regulator to the pilots chest. “Vi, OR2 ready yet,” he turned and yelled, then placed a O2 mask over the pilot’s nose and mouth. “Deep breaths, take a nap. You'll be fine," he told the pilot dismissively - while the man's eyes rolled up into the back of his head.

Vi-Nine appeared in the Doctor's peripheral suddenly, occular lens blinking as she scanned the patient. She spoke in a tone of hurried tone of patient authority, like a parent reminding a child of chores that needed to be done before playtime. “Sterilization cycle completion in 70 seconds. We have an issue in cryogenics, however. A...ah, power issue – I've initiated emergency retro-suspension of one of the patients. You'll need to supervise his revival and follow up examinations while I," the droid bent over the wounded pilot and stoked his breather mask gently with a single silver finger, "take special care of this one."

Arven looked at her like the android had just spoken a string of incoherent nonsense, blinked, then cleared his throat. "Wait, what? In the middle of all this? Really?"

“Oh," the droid waved a hand as she stood again, "There appears to be a...creature…chewing up the conduits,” Vi-Nine clarified, then hefted one of her mechanical limbs, which morphed with a series of clicks and whirling servos into an active, blue flamed torch. “Some manner of mole-like specimen from one of the science labs, I believe. I can initiate termination protocols, if you require.”

Arven felt the blood drain from his face. “Absolutely not – stand down, right now,” he pointed at the wounded pilot. “You fix him,” then he gestured to himself and wolf-lady. “We’ll handle cryo.”

Vi-Nine seemed to sag a bit, then un-transformed her arm back to normal. “Very well.”

"First though," he addressed she-wolf, "go get cleaned up. CMO's office has a wash room, back that way. Meet me in cryo when you don't look like you just ate a Romulan." Arven wiped a hand across his face with an exhausted breath, then nodded to all of them. “Lets go, chron's ticking - Vi, what's the unit number in cryo?"

The android was already moving the biobed towards surgery, humming to herself. She turned her head all the way around to face Arven as she kept walking. "Hm? Oh," her occular lens flashed brightly and rapidly for a half a second. "Row D, Bravo-Four. Ferasan male - full details transmitted to your PADD," she waved, then disappeared into OR 2 with her ward. "Have fun - I know we will."

Another giant cat, how wonderful, Arven frowned with a grumble, then set off to cryo.
94
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle
Last post by Eirual -
[Kelistina Kavat Droga | Deck 06 | Vector 01 | “Helmet”]
ATTN: All Active writers

To say she was tired was an extreme understatement. Kelistina had been working with the crew making repairs as the battle raged. Frustrated in the knowledge that she was not nearly trained enough on this ship and it’s systems to do more that patch holes. More than a few times it had been her height that held her from getting to where the damage was. As it was, her unfamiliarity with the Theurgy’s equipment made her question if her skills were good enough to keep this ship and her new friends alive even as she was knocked off her feet in the middle of sealing a bulkhead.

Death was evident in many places. She’d had to pass bodies that no longer resembled a living being as she made her way through damaged corridors and rubble to get to a more critically damaged area. Lugging the assigned tool kit over the debris. She couldn’t remember how many hours she’d been on her feet, but it felt like forever. At last she was returning to the Maintenance area to return the borrowed tool kit. Someone else would probably be needing it soon.
Looking around at the chaos even in this area saddened her further. She set the tool kit near the storage area then leaned against the wall. She didn’t really know who to tell that she was back. All she remembered was someone handing her the kit and a remark about hoping she could get the work done fast. In the heat of the battle and the chaotic aftermath of the intrusion that had already taken lives, she was still wearing that outfit she’d made. But it looked more like she had covered herself in rags. Burn holes and rips covered a good portion of it, since it was definitely not created as something to work in. She let out a long tired breath as she let her body slide down the wall, tiredly pulling her legs close and wrapping her arms around them.  She’d rest here, just for a little bit. Then she would try to find her friend Ny-Sa-Ri. She hoped she would find her alive and well. Her head slowly fell to rest on her knees as her exhaustion overcame her and the world around her faded to black.



[ENS Mia Dunne  |Main Sickbay |Vector 2 |USS Theurgy ]

Somehow she was still walking. After her injuries during the Hobus mission she didn’t think she could feel more pain. She’d been so wrong. As soon as they had returned to the triangle she had been doing what she could to assist. Her task was looking for injured to be sent for care. Unfortunately, she’d also found many that hadn’t survived, Romulans, Klingons and Theurgy crew. The pain was deep in her soul. Not a physical ache that could be treated quickly, but an emotional turmoil at the loss of so many. How many of her friends would be listed on the memorial wall? She didn’t even want to think about that.
Now she was in sickbay, assisting in the care of the wounded as much as her limited skills would allow. She longed to go back to the solitude and quiet of the science labs. She walked amid the groans and cries of the wounded on the beds, the chairs and some even on the floor. Too many, way too many for the surviving medical staff to deal with. So here she was, walking through the battle worn wounded, offering what aid she could, while knowing she wasn’t much help at all.
95
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0255] The Cost of Continuity
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Deck 01 | Executive Officer’s Office | USS Theurgy ] @joshs1000

Cross watched Frost go without calling after him, dark eyes following the man’s retreating back until the doors slid shut with a muted hiss. For a moment, the office felt quieter—emptier—despite the low thrum of systems and the ever-present scent of disinfectant and scorched circuitry. He exhaled slowly through his nose.

Confident. Sharp. Arrogant, he assessed clinically. Which means he’ll either last… or burn out spectacularly.

His gaze drifted back to the PADD nearest his prosthetic hand, fingers resting against its edge without activating it. Science chiefs aboard Theurgy had developed a disturbingly short half-life of late—transfers, casualties, reassignment, or worse. Brilliant minds chewed up by circumstance and war before they ever had time to leave a mark.

Here’s hoping you stick around longer than the others, he thought, not unkindly. The ship needed continuity almost as much as it needed hull plating and power.

Cross was just turning back toward the desk, intent on burying himself once more in reports, when the doorway dimmed. Not metaphorically. The light from the corridor was partially eclipsed by a massive presence, and Cross instinctively looked up. Lok filled the threshold.

At 2.08 meters tall, the Ferasan engineer was impossible to miss—broad shoulders brushing the doorframe, powerful digitigrade legs planted with relaxed solidity, striped tail swaying lazily behind him. Blue eyes, warm but alert, met Cross’s gaze beneath the short-trimmed mane that framed his face. His mechanic’s coveralls bore the marks of recent, relentless work, and the faint scent of machine oil clung to him like a second skin.

Cross straightened slightly. Whatever fatigue pressed at his bones, it didn’t dull his appreciation for competence—and Lok radiated it.

“Commander Lok,” Cross said evenly. “Come in.”

He gestured inside, waiting for the Ferasan to duck through before the doors sealed again. As Lok entered, Cross turned back to his desk, shuffling through the stacks of PADDs with brisk efficiency until he found the one he wanted. He activated it, scanned the contents once more to confirm, then looked back up.

“As of fifteen minutes ago,” Cross began without preamble, “you’ve been reassigned.” He held the PADD up just long enough for the transfer order to be visible. “You’re now Chief of the Deck. For the time being, you’ll be pulling double duty—Head of Propulsion and Chief of the Deck—until the ship stabilizes and we can reshuffle personnel to better match operational needs. That includes replacements, assuming Starfleet can spare any.” His mouth tightened. “Which I am not counting on in the near term.”

Cross set the PADD down and leaned back against the desk, folding his arms—organic hand resting lightly against the prosthetic.

“I’ve just finished reviewing the latest readiness report,” he continued bluntly. “We currently have eight launch-worthy craft.” A beat. “That number is unacceptable.”

His eyes locked onto Lok’s, intensity sharpening. “We are on the brink of things going completely to hell. If they do, eight fighters won’t keep this ship alive. I need propulsion, flight support, and deck operations running at peak efficiency—and I need them running now.” There was no attempt to soften what came next. “I need you operating without sleep if necessary. Without regular meals, if it comes to that. Same as the rest of us. We’ll fix offensive capability later. Right now, survival and defensibility come first.”

Cross studied Lok for a moment, measuring not muscle but resolve. “Questions?”

As he spoke, his gaze briefly shifted past Lok’s shoulder, drawn to another figure standing rigidly at attention in the corridor beyond—another large man, waiting patiently. Cross hadn’t met him face to face, but recognition sparked nonetheless. He remembered that voice on comms during the battle. Calm. Decisive. Effective under fire. The bearing matched the reports. Matched the actions. That, at least, brought a flicker of grim satisfaction.

Cross’s attention returned to Lok, expression steady.
96
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0255] The Cost of Continuity
Last post by Nesota Kynnovan -
[Lieutenant Dr. Nathan Frost, Ph.D. | Deck 01 | Executive Officer’s Office | USS Theurgy]
[Attn: @Ellen Fitz]

As the Commander rose from his chair, Frost happened to notice the man’s prosthetic hand and briefly wondered whether that was a result of the recent battle as well, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, as the Vulcan welcomed him aboard, Frost simply replied with a curt nod and a smile.

When Commander Cross pulled up the summary schematic, Frost turned his blue eyes to look at the amber- and red coloured sections while the Commander began to present him with a preliminary damage report. The Canadian Immunologist made sure to take notes on the PADD in his hand, first typing blind but soon turning his attention to the small tablet. The touchscreen display of the device made soft tapping sounds with every touch, which gave away the fast pace of Frost’s typing as he summarized the damage report. He occasionally shifted his gaze back to the summary schematic as it shifted to different areas of the ship, but Frost’s facial expression became increasingly concerned each time he did so; the reddish hue that emanated from the display did little to hide the fact and instead even accentuated it.

And then, just like that, the summary schematic faded and Frost’s blue eyes met the paler blues of Commander Cross. While the preliminary damage report was done, the Canadian’s mind was already processing the information; prioritizing what needed to be done immediately and what could -potentially- wait. The one thing that worried him above all else was the improbable fact that Chemistry, Xenobiology and Cybernetics were completely intact; there was nothing in the Commander’s preliminary report that indicated whether this was because the laboratory was actually intact or because no one had reported back with an accurate, in-depth assessment yet. And how could they? Regardless, that made it an unknown factor to Frost and, given the amount of hazardous materials in that particular laboratory, definitely a priority.

Frost listened to Commander Frost as the Vulcan spoke up once more, explaining that anything dangerous had to be reported, and Frost presented the man with a curt nod in reply. When the Commander added that he expected his science staff to move quickly and adapt, Frost finally smiled again and spoke. ”It’s what I do best.” The Canadian accent of his voice and the smile on his face almost managed to hide the arrogant tone. ”I’ll first check the laboratories myself to make an accurate assessment and then assemble the Science Staff to address the issues at hand.” While Frost hadn’t been able to read up on every single member of the Science Department, he had managed to quickly scan through the dossiers of the staff earlier; he had no idea how capable any of them actually were, but he figured that he would find out soon enough.

Just like that, with those few arrogant words, Frost turned around on his right heel and quickly made his way out of the office, headed straight for the Chemistry, Xenobiology and Cybernetics Laboratory.
97
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi: S [Day 03 | 0145] By these wounds...
Last post by Eden -
Lt. JG Callax Valin | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] @Ellen Fitz @Dumedion
[Show/Hide]
Fear subsided quickly once the wolf monster introduced themselves, albeit just their training and credentials for taking care of him. It did not take long for Cal to take in his surroundings and conclude that he was 1) alive and 2) in sickbay on board the USS Theurgy. That conclusion was confirmed by the appearance of Arven who Cal recognized immediately. Even if Cal could not see, he would have known the doctor was there by their ever cheerful bedside manner.

That solved the question of whether he was in immediate danger. As far as safety, he was probably in the safest place he could be given his present condition. Speaking of his condition... it was only then that Cal began to take measure of his present condition.

It was bad.

He did not need to be a medical professional to determine that. Beyond his general dislike of sickbay, he was really beat up. Legs a mess, arm burned, miscellaneous other scrapes, cuts, and other breaks. All courtesy of that damned Romulan fighter, no doubt. They had scored one too many lucky hits on his Valkyrie which he was just remembering now was a flaming heap of metal.

And the others?

"What happened to the rest of my flight?"

The words were spoken with painful effort, as if his lungs could not carry enough air to form the words. He did not apologize for his previous outburst. He did not much care. If apologies needed to be made they would be made later if he managed to live to make them.

"What is our status?"

He coughed up blood as he spoke, directing the spray to his side away from the doctor.

Was the battle still underway? Had they won? Or was he looking at the remnants of a defeated crew?
98
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0255] The Cost of Continuity
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Deck 01 | Executive Officer’s Office | USS Theurgy ] @Nesota Kynnovan

Cross lifted his gaze as Frost entered, dark eyes sharpening with immediate assessment rather than ceremony. The man’s posture, his clipped tone, the already-active PADD—none of it escaped notice. Useful. Impatient, but useful. Cross had no time for easing people in.

He rose from the chair—not to loom, but to meet Frost on equal footing—resting his prosthetic hand lightly against the edge of the desk. The faint servomotor whine was barely audible beneath the ship’s ambient hum.

“Doctor Frost,” he acknowledged evenly. “Welcome aboard Theurgy. I wish your arrival circumstances were… less instructive.”

At the question about the labs, Cross exhaled through his nose and tapped a control on the desk, flicking a summary schematic into the air between them. Sections glowed amber and red across multiple decks.

“You’re correct to be concerned,” he said. “We’re still compiling full assessments, but I can give you the current state as we understand it.”

His finger traced the first highlighted section.

“Archaeology and Geology took internal damage rather than hull breach. Several specimens were compromised during the battle—apparently, some samples recovered on an older mission reacted poorly to sustained vibration and power fluctuation. Miniature internal detonations.” His mouth tightened slightly. “They damaged a portion of the lab from the inside out. Containment is holding now, but we’ve sealed off the affected section pending your people’s evaluation.”

Another gesture shifted the display.

“Hydroponics was hit harder. Environmental controls failed during the engagement, and parts of the system were outright destroyed. Many specimens are in critical condition. Triage is ongoing, but losses are expected unless we can restore stable conditions quickly.”

Amber bled into red as he continued.

“Xenozoology is… a problem.” There was no embellishment, just blunt fact. “Several specimens escaped during power loss. Most have been recaptured. One remains unaccounted for—a burrowing, mole-like organism with a documented preference for circuitry. Engineering has been alerted, and Security is sweeping maintenance access ways, but I won’t sugarcoat it: that one concerns me.”

The display shifted again, calmer colors for the moment.

“Physics reports no obvious damage,” Cross said, then paused. “Which, given the state of the ship, makes me suspicious. Assume latent issues until proven otherwise. And temporal is always a headache is assume it is an even bigger headache at this point.”

Another tap.

“Chemistry, Xenobiology, and Cybernetics are, improbably, intact. No explosions, no contamination, no major losses reported so far.” A faint, humorless huff escaped him. “Make of that what you will.”

He rotated the schematic one final time.

“Stellar Cartography will need full realignment. Sensor calibration was thrown off across the board during the battle. Data’s intact, but accuracy is currently… theoretical.”

And finally:

“Arboretum sustained structural and environmental damage. Displays will need repair, and a fair amount of landscaping, once we’re no longer prioritizing life support elsewhere.”

Cross let the display fade and met Frost’s eyes squarely.

“In short, Doctor, you have work. A great deal of it. You have authority to requisition personnel and resources as needed—within reason—and I want status updates routed through my office until we stabilize.” His tone softened only a fraction. “If something is about to become dangerous, I need to know before it explodes, escapes, or eats the ship.”

A beat.

“And Doctor?” he added. “Despite appearances, Theurgy is still standing because people move quickly and adapt. I expect the same from my science staff.”

He inclined his head once—dismissal and welcome in equal measure.

“Get started.”
99
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi: S [Day 03 | 0145] By these wounds...
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[Ehfva Feynri | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy] @Eden @Dumedion

“What the fuck are you?”

Of course.

From his perspective, he had awakened from paradise into a nightmare. From clouds into claws.

He thrashed, terror overwhelming pain, his body straining against restraints meant to protect him, not imprison him. When his legs failed to respond, the fear sharpened into something raw and animal. One arm flailed weakly, a punch thrown more in desperation than threat.

Ehfva stepped back at once.

The movement was careful and deliberate—slow enough not to provoke. She lifted her hands slightly, claws visible but spread, empty. Blood—Romulan blood, dried now—still stained her fur and skin despite her attempts to clean herself before entering Sickbay. She was acutely aware of it in that moment, a grotesque punctuation she could not erase.

Her voice, when she spoke, came out fractured and rough, dragged through a throat that could not decide what shape it wanted to be.

“Easy,” she said, each syllable distorted, threaded with a faint growl she could not fully suppress. She hated that. “You… are safe. Sickbay. USS Theurgy.”

His gaze fixed on her face—her wrong jaw, her fangs, the uneven symmetry of her eyes—and the terror spiked again.

She swallowed and forced herself to continue.

“I am… corpsman-trained. Volunteering.” A pause, then softer—not apologetic, but honest. “I know I look… alarming.”

Doctor Leux arrived like a storm front, his presence sharp and unmistakable even before his voice cut through the chaos. Ehfva did not bristle at his tone or his brusque assumption of control. If anything, relief loosened something tight in her chest.

Good. Someone else could take this now.

She relinquished the tricorder without protest as he took it from her, stepping aside immediately to give him space. She remained still while he assessed her work—head bowed slightly, posture controlled—accepting judgment without flinch.

“You stabilized him. Well—mostly.”

The words were not praise, but they were not condemnation either. She accepted them as they were.

When Leux told her he would see to her later, that she looked “bloody awful,” she inclined her head in acknowledgment. She had no energy left to argue, and no part of her disagreed.

As he turned back to the pilot—barking orders, shifting neural blocks, demanding equipment—Ehfva moved automatically to assist when asked. She retrieved supplies, checked bins, answered questions with clipped efficiency. She did not look at the pilot unless necessary. She did not want to see his fear reflected back at her.

Ehfva did not retreat.

Where another might have stepped back under the weight of scrutiny, she straightened instead, planting her boots more firmly against the deck as if the ship itself were demanding proof that she belonged.

She remained exactly where she was, blood—fresh and dried alike—streaked across her armor and skin. Romulan green stood out starkly against the dark fabric. It was not something she tried to hide. If anything, she carried it openly, a silent record of what she had already done to keep the ship standing.

Her gaze stayed level with Leux’s, steady and unflinching, the focus of a predator long after the hunt had ended.

“The blood isn’t mine,” she said calmly, as if delivering a clinical report rather than explaining the aftermath of violence. “It belongs to enemies who won’t be getting back up. Aside from the damage the Savi caused, I’m unharmed.” She gestured briefly to herself, then back to him. “That’s why I’m here. I’m volunteering to support until things stabilize. You can revisit my condition once you’re no longer carrying this situation alone.”

She stepped closer—not to crowd him, not to intimidate, but close enough to be useful—and pressed a compact tissue regenerator into his hand before he could ask. Almost immediately, a second device followed, placed with deliberate care, her timing precise.

“You’ll need this for his legs,” she added, already anticipating the need.

There was no bravado in her posture, and no apology either. Only resolve, sharpened by the violence she had already committed and survived.

She was not asking for trust. She was proving she was worth it by standing her ground.
100
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle
Last post by Nolan -
[ PO2 Kythalie Benmual | Deck 7 | Security center | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]

The screen stared back at her as Kythalie tapped on the console to submit het after action report. She looked up over the console and around her as the security center was buzzing with activity. She closed her eyes for a minute in order to focus once more as she began to fill in the rest of the paperwork. She had a backlog of reports to fill in from the past few days. Observations and the likes that had to be written down for future references or if needed to be added to a complaint form if needed.

She moved her left hand over her side as it still hurted a little after the skirmish. Medical had cleared her, though the pain still lingered a little. It would fade over the next few hours or days. She knew that, it was nothing to worry about. Yet in the back of her head, she was thinking of how close he had gotten to kicking the bucket. he eyes continued to stare at the console before her. Her thoughts running through her head whilst she continued to tap away at the console. She was both processing her paperwork as well as the events that had happened and were still going on. She was just creating some order now that she had the time for it in her head.

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