Star Trek: Theurgy

Day 02 [0030 hrs] The Ready Room Catch up

August 25, 2026, 10:11:34 PM

[LT Vanya | Lower Science Labs | Deck 17 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Brutus

After the relatively successful vole hunt (which had taken up much of the day, followed by a thorough inventory of all the lower science labs), Vanya had briefly met with Dr. Frost, which had consisted of the freshly thawed CSO informing her of the impending diplomatic mission to Romulus, as well as adding to the list of other objectives he wished her to accomplish. This news was taken neutrally, of course; while she certainly had no love of the idea of returning to Romulus, there were few remaining on board that spoke the languages needed to facilitate the mission – in that logic, she couldn’t help but agree with Frost’s judgement.

Still, risks remained; not only for herself, but for everyone else sent along.

Vanya kept that line of thought running along in a dedicated sub-routine as she continued to inventory the labs; post battle, with the ship repairs underway (as much as they could be, given the current quasi-political situation), and with her memory still shredded with annoying gaps – she hoped that by thoroughly refamiliarizing herself with her surroundings, a piece of what had been lost might be restored...

...Thus far, to no positive effect.

Ever the optimist, Vanya refused to abandon the experiment; there had been several radiation-variance scanners rediscovered, along with a deltoidal icositetrahedron phased lens misplaced in the wrong drawer – both of which earned a genuine smile of surprised delight.

Who knows what else could be waiting for me?

Vanya suddenly stopped mid-stride as if struck by an electrical overload; she blinked once, then twice, as her mind whirred through several emotional states in rapid succession. Not something...someone had been waiting since the Triangle, and likely didn’t even know that she still functioned; someone that meant more to her than words could accurately describe – someone that was now impossibly occupied with the burdens of command, and likely unreachable. Green eyes, the shade of impossibly dark forests, darted to the chrono as she spun to the door, lab coat snatched from the back of a chair with haste. Well, we'll just see about that wont we?

“Computer, be a dear and please locate Commander Stark,” Vanya inquired as she pulled the coat on over her duty uniform; a thing she had grown to tolerate, but never enjoy – not even the skirt variant – which she chose to wear more than the atrocious trousers. Bare feet padded over the scratched (but meticulously clean) lab tiles, pausing only briefly to scoop up a pair of knee-high boots, which her feet were subsequently shoved into without ceremony.

“Captain Stark is in the Ready Room,” the computer announced.

"Thank you darling." Manners cost nothing but time, and were never wasted.

Vanya hesitated at the new rank; her brow creased with an unusual emotion – then vanished as the feeling was isolated and removed from her active cognitive processes, redirected to join the dozens of other running sub-routines in her synthetic cortex.

Regardless of what has occurred…the changes, the added roles…she’s still Nat, and I am still me, Vanya reminded herself as she left the lab, bound for the nearest turbolift.


[…Moments later | Bridge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy]

The turbolift door opened to reveal a (thankfully) minimally crewed bridge. Vanya nodded to the security officer on duty - noted the way he side-eyed her - but made no comment; he wasn’t the first to react to her physical appearance and wouldn’t be the last. There was little to be done on the issue other than simply accept it for what it was; the scientist in her wished to understand the fundamental principle that encoded such reactions in variant species across the galaxy – the more sensitive aspect in her wished she could change it.

…And there went another unusual thought-line; sent down into non-priority limbo – just as Vanya rounded the corner of Mission Ops and the door to the CO’s ready room presented itself.

A brief pause followed; nothing so foolish as a ‘steadying breath’ of course…that would be silly.

It’s Nat – it’s just Nat. A deep breath followed, even if Vanya didn’t technically need to breathe at all.

Her finger pressed the call key.

A moment passed, then a murmured voice issued from the other side; one that made Vanya’s lips curl completely of their own accord – an uncontrollable reaction in the presence of one very specific individual. As the door opened, Vanya held her hands behind her and remained beyond the threshold; she let her eyes take in the scene, as they sought the person they wanted instinctually – and quickly found.

“Hello Natalie,” Vanya whispered, eyes wide and full of Natalie’s; a powerful motive force had suddenly manifested between them, as inescapable as a Magnetar – invisible yet undeniably real. A brief struggle ensued against it anyway, as she fought to keep herself from running into Nat's arms. “Got some time to kill for an old friend?” the question was asked playfully, almost teasing; Vanya's head tilted, smile beaming – just as she always had when she wanted to get under a certain someone's skin - in a good way, of course.

Re: Day 02 [0030 hrs] The Ready Room Catch up

Reply #1 – September 08, 2026, 10:43:25 PM

[ Acting Captain Natalie Stark | Captain's Ready Room | V. 1 D. 1 | USS Theurgy ] ATTN: @Dumedion
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To say that things had been stressful would be an understatement. Leaning over the desk in the Captain's Ready room (she refused to think of it as her ready room, Natalie Stark Fingered the fourth pip that rested on her collar, placed there on the recommendation of the President of the Federation herself. Yes, Natalie understood it was a temporary commission. There was no way she should be the one to hold this rank long term. But she had it now. And it had been suggested, heavily, that she wear it for the duration. Hard to say no to the President of the Federation. Harder still when it was the same woman that had stood in this office and given her a hug.


So here she sat, in the Ready room, when she should be in her quarters, asleep. But there were still too many reports to go through, and she didn't want to bring the stack of PADD's back to her room. Not when she had this office to use. And the stack was getting smaller, slowly. Still too many reports to go through. They were piled atop each other, next to a mug of coffee (decaf, at this point in the night - no, morning) that had long gone cold. She frowned as she read an update on, of all things, a vole hunt, and shook her head. Compared to everything this crew had been forced to deal with over the months since Jupiter Station, Natalie supposed that seeing a report on something so minor was something of a blessing.


It was certainly more lighthearted and welcome than the responses she was getting from the starbase command, or Starfleet in general. All those carefully worded replies, the apologies for unforeseeable delays, unavoidable complications. Things she had been prepared for. No outright hostility yet. Just...passive aggressive complications coated in a layer of polite behavior above outright reproach. And even that was preferable to medical updates, which she'd not yet been able to bring herself to check, out of fear of what would, or more likely, would not be there. Of the presumed lack of status change in one particular officer.


Something she could not allow herself to dwell on, or she'd break down. Again.


Instead she reached for a report on the Qo'noS mission. The need to send officers back, knowing that everyone from the team sent would be under polite (intense) scrutiny from fellow officers dispatched from elsewhere within the Federation. And there was less goodwill from the High Command to go around at the moment, though Natalie favored herself in thinking that despite it all, Chancellor Martok still favored the Theurgy more than he did the rest of the Federation at this point. Even with everything related to the Romulans at The Triangle, and after.


There was that report to look at too, more missions into Romulan space, and a general political update to review. She set the PADD back down and reached for the coffee, only to spit it back out into the cup as a wave of disgust flashed over her tired face. "Damn. It's gone cold. Again," she lamented, holding the cold mug in her hands, and pushing her chair back from the desk. With a sigh, Natalie closed her eyes for a moment and took a long breath to settle herself.


Which was, of course, when the door-chime went off. For a moment Natalie wanted to pretend that she was not there. That she had not heard the chime. But that was a level of irresponsible she would not allow of herself any more. When she had been merely Lt. Stark, Assistant Chief of Operations, she might have succumbed to the urge. Then again, when she had been Lt. Stark, the odds of something like this happening at this late an hour would be slim to none. But she was not Lt. Stark. And she was not an Assistant department Chief. She was, for the time being, Acting Captain Stark. And Captains (even acting ones) did not get to ignore a door chime. Despite all the authority that they possessed.


"Enter," Natalie called out, hoping she kept any irritation or fatigue from her voice. She opened her eyes in time to look up to the parting doors, and stare, dumbfounded at the site. For one short instant, she wondered if she had gone off her rocker. And then the apparitions spoke, and Natalie dropped the mug she had been holding onto the floor with a loud clatter, splashing the cold coffee over the carpet beneath the desk.


"Shit!" the escaped her mouth, and then her brain caught up with it all and the spilt coffee was forgotten. Decorum, was forgotten. Rank, right out the airlock. She nearly smashed her thigh into the corner of the desk as she scrambled around it, hopping to one side at the last moment. In a feat of improbable human athletics, Nat crossed the room, reaching over the threshold and grabbing Vanya's tunic with both hands. Of course, if the Android did not want to allow Natalie to move her, there would be no moving Vanya. But that didn't stop Natalie from trying to drag her across the threshold and into her arms all the same.

Re: Day 02 [0030 hrs] The Ready Room Catch up

Reply #2 – September 09, 2026, 10:59:47 PM

[LT Vanya | Ready Room | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Brutus

By the time Natalie reached her, Vanya had already moved forward a step, just past the threshold. That brief moment of time offered a plethora of informational observations: the stacks of PaDDs were noted, unsurprisingly — Nat had always pushed the limitations of what was considered by many to be a healthy and manageable workload. However, the shroud of exhaustion carried on Nat's features elicited a blink of surprise mixed with concern, as well as the obvious weight loss; Vanya estimated the former First Officer, now Acting Captain, had shed fifteen to twenty kilos since their last physical encounter.

Vanya kept these observations to herself, but let her smile fade just enough to convey concern as her arms closed around the shorter brunette in a long overdue embrace — one arm low, to support Nat’s weight, one arm high about the shoulders, fingers spread up into the hair at the base of the skull.

There they met, and there they remained; no words offered, only a hum of contentment and relief as the seconds turned into minutes. Vanya had no desire to relinquish contact — her nose was buried in Natalie’s semi-undone, tangled mess of hair — the entirety of her neck included in the embrace.

It felt wonderful.

Peaceful.

It felt like home — without ever knowing what that truly meant.

And yet, she could not ignore the rapid breaths, nor the desperately controlled tremors that coursed through the body in her arms...

Vanya let her nails tease the base of Nat’s scalp, then down the entirety of the humans neck; a soothing motion, intimate without sensuality, while she offered the faintest of whispers above a warm ear:

“I’m here, I have you. My sweet Nat, I missed you dearly. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” She could practically hear Natalie’s mind racing — which prompted a firm kiss to the temple. “I will explain everything, darling. But first,” Vanya pulled back, just enough to run her hand over a wonderfully flushed cheek, then continued under Nat’s delightfully cute chin, and lifted just enough for their eyes to meet. “An intervention is required.” She spoke gently, through a loving smile. A wink followed immediately.

The look on Natalie’s face was absolutely adorable.

“Oh yes. An intervention my dear. You see, by my reckoning, you,” Vanya booped Natalie’s nose, “are supposed to be several hours off-duty by this hour. Imagine my surprise to find you here, working instead. Oh nu,” she pouted. “That simply wont do at all,” another smile, impish and mischievous.

“So, first things first,” her free hand snaked up Natalie’s back and deftly untied the already loose scrunchie holding the tangled mop of hair up, which promptly fell about the shorter woman’s shoulders. Once that was accomplished, both hands rested on Nat’s shoulders, then circled across her collarbone as Vanya moved to stand behind her.

“It is perfectly acceptable to dress down while off-duty, Natalie, even for you, — especially when I'm around,” the synthetic whispered into an ear with a grin, as her hands unzipped Nat’s duty jacket, then gently pulled it back and away from her body with a hum of approval. With a toss, the garment was discarded to land atop the piles of PaDDs adorning the CO’s desk.

Vanya nodded her approval, then repeated the process upon herself, removing both lab coat and duty jacket in one action; she tossed these upon one of the twin chairs before the desk without concern.

“There, that's a little better,” she stated, hands on her hips, smile bright. “Now, you sit and relax. I will make you something to eat.”

She didn’t give Nat a chance to argue, nor would it have done any good if the woman tried; Vanya was there to take care of her — there was nothing to dispute about that fact —  and all this was communicated unashamedly in the light-hearted but serious look she gave the Acting Captain.

Then she smiled warmly once again.

“BLT, toasted, mayo on one side only? Steamed broccoli smothered in cheese, and apple slices, peanut butter on the side, — with chilled cucumber water,” Vanya offered from memory over her shoulder as she glided to the replicator, hips swaying.

Then she stopped without turning to see what Nat was doing.

“If you touch another PaDD, there will be consequences, miss,” the synthetic warned playfully, then typed out the order into the replicator with an amused smirk.