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Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

[ Dr. Nicander | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage Optional: @steelphoenix  
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In the need of leaving sickbay to find something to eat, Doctor Nicander had opted to check on a couple of patients on the way, which had led him far from the Spearhead Lounge where he usually dined, and led him to Below Decks - an establishment he had never visited since sometime before the Niga Incident. After he passed through the sliding doors, he stared at the people within, seeing a plethora of species, all which he had cut open and sought to save. It had been all pretence in the service of the dark presence within, yet now, it was cause lost to him. To save lives had not held any greater interest than for the parasites' design. Now, he sought to thwart them, but he yet held the means to do it.
 
He was greeted by waves and smiled, yet he had not the energy to socialise. He had almost opted to turn on his heel and leave... when his eye caught the light that emanated from one part of the lounge. Once his gaze focused on the source, he saw the profile of someone he knew, a memory flashing before his vision where he saw her create a bar of light that blinded Sonja Acreth, and made her fall through the temporal breach.
 
Lucan smiled quietly at the sight of the Radiant. A dilemma, because she knew not the person he had been, or what her powers had done to him. Nonetheless, he needed to learn how that happened, sensing that it was not chance that had made the presence of the parasite in his mind withdraw into his subconscious. Having made up his mind, he headed over to Heather McMillan. She was eating a sandwich of some sort, a PADD next to it. He doubted she had seen him.

"Is this seat taken?" he said kindly, removing his coat and laying it across a chair. He was wearing his suffocating, damnable duty uniform underneath. As he seated himself, he slowly opened the collar of his undershirt and raked back his unkempt hair. A few moments of silence passed, where he considered what he might say. Only the most basic things came to mind.

"How have you been holding up since the battle? It was quite an ordeal we shared, and I am not entirely sure what happened. All I gathered from Sarresh Morali was that we did something wrong, but I have yet to learn what it was. He seemed pretty upset, at least."

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #1
[ Heather McMillan | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan  Optional: @steelphoenix
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She wondered at times how people would view the paradox of her nature. Heather McMillan was by far very gentle, and so pacifistic, that if she were attacked, or even if her loved ones were attacked, she would not fight. Though she would put herself in harm's way if it saved a life, and yet, she was quite a carnivore. Feeling the need for serious comfort food, she headed over to Below Decks, where, once upon time, she would never have dared to enter, or so brazenly expose her radiance for all to see. But she was hungry, after skipping a meal, and she'd heard a bit from various chatter here and there, that the new proprietor was making food by hand rather than by replicators (not that there was anything wrong with them, mind), she just had to try this for herself.

She briefly paused outside, wondering if she should reduce her lighting. Ultimately, she decided to keep on shining, at a controlled rate of course. She still literally lit the room up when she entered. Pointedly not looking at anyone, she settled herself at a table and when the holographic waitress approached her, she knew exactly what she wanted, “One prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich please, with just a hint of pesto aioli. Thanks.”

While she waited, she placed her PADD on the table, and soon had her meal before her. But before she could eat it or even contemplate it, her attention was diverted to a man who caused a myriad of reactions in her. A strong urge to shine brighter, sadness, gladness, shame, boldness. She controlled her light, though her hair, wildly flaying, shifted colours constantly, multiple colours in no discernible pattern of motion. Giving Nicander a weary smile, “You are far too kind, doctor,” said McMillan, “it was not 'we' who did something wrong. Just me. I was the one that caused Acreth to fall into that portal. I was the one who nearly hurt all of you and took your sight. My soul be burned, but I had hurt gods.”

She looked thoughtfully at the man, considering him, “I guess as long as I don't dwell on it, I...I can hold up well enough. What about you? There's a mission...tomorrow, and something about an a race called the lightborn. They think it might be connected to me. I'm going on it. My penance.”

It was her penance because going on a mission was absolutely terrifying to her.

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #2
[ Dr. Nicander | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage Optional: @steelphoenix 
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Hearing the Radiant speak of the ordeal they went through during the Battle of Starbase 84, it seemed she blamed herself for the fate of Sonja Acreth. It made him feel mixed feelings, because on one side, she was wrong. It had been he who shouted that she'd blind Acreth, figuratively speaking, with her light. He had done so because he had hoped to restore the sanity of the Ensign host, subduing the parasite inside her in the same fashion Heather had managed to do so to him. Unfortunately, Acreth had been blinded literally, and fallen through the temporal breach... bringing the seed child with her. Restarting the cycle yet again.

A mission? he thought when she mentioned it, and his pale grey eyes slowly dropped to the PADD on the table, which had an away mission briefing on display. Frowning, he glanced at her to see if it was okay if he had a look, before he started to read. As he did, he answered the concerns she had raised.

"Well, my sight is fine, and the ship is still intact. There is also one less parasite-infested crew member aboard, so even if the chance to possibly help the host and find a means to help others like her has been lost, there is no telling we won't find another like her to study and learn from instead," he said, but he was not ready to publicly submit himself to such tests. Rather, he has been working on preforming tests on himself, in secret, to try and find some means of detection. "Furthermore, there is no telling what she tried to bring across the temporal breach - be it another Calamity-class ship or some assassin that was meant to kill the Captain -  but I do know that we tried to save a lot of people from whatever she had planned in that lab. There was nothing we could have done differently, despite whatever compelled Sarresh Morali to claim we erred. So, by the winds, there is no such penance to be paid for your actions."

Having said this, Lucan had read up on the initial briefing notes and he looked towards Heather with concern. Genuine concern, because he did not like the idea of her going to some random moon filled with Klingon traps and whatever dangers might away in these alleged ruins beneath the mining outpost. The crew did not need dilithium, then needed her.

"Have you already accepted this mission?" he asked and raked a hand through his unkempt hair, looking at her in hope to make her change her mind, "I am not certain that you Radiant physiology is meant for such exertions. Would it not be better to leave dilithium gathering and ruins to the others in Science?" he chuckled in a warm way to her, not scorning her in the least. "I am not claiming you to be any less a Science officer than them, but they've had longer training in away mission protocol, and I would personally hate if you end up hurting yourself over misplaced guilt; this penance that you speak of."

Loosing the Radiant was not an option. She was key to finding the wavelength of light that might subdue the enemy. If he could have it his way, she would have armed guards at all times. With all the Devoted running about, there was no telling what might happen to her even aboard the Theurgy.

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #3
[ Heather McMillan | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan  Optional: @steelphoenix
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Her field of light along her skin and face began to shift mostly toward pink hues, while her hair remained a myriad rainbow, and an aurora cloud flowed about around her like her own personal trail, as she unobtrusively observed the doctor's expressions while she spoke. She wasn't good at reading people, and usually she was in one state of excitement or another, so getting a read on people was the poorest of her skills. But he seemed interested in something. Then his eyes went down to her PADD, and with an unasked permission to read it, which she acquiesced to with a nod, she watched and listened as he offered her a form of solace.

She understood, more or less, where he was coming from. Based on what he explained. Probably, by any human standards, and by the standards of Starfleet, she behaved in a manner befitting the expectations of a Starfleet Officer. but she wasn't human, and her respect to Starfleet's regulations and directives aside, she had her own people's culture and nature to consider.

By the standards of the Radiant, she was a monster.

She supposed she would have to share her people's culture with the people on board the Theurgy, if they were to at least have an idea what it was like for her and any other Radiant. They weren't just pacifists by choice, they were so out of their "religious" beliefs. They were to be protectors and watchers, not fighters. The Way of the Light was everything to them, and she had forsaken it. No matter how justified to the gods, it was vile, what she had done. Brushing a stray floating strand of hair out of her face, she bit her lower lip, and tried her best to explain, “I understand you, and what you are saying. But doctor...I have violated the customs of my people. The Way of the Light, as we call it, teaches us that peace is not something that we should ever set aside for anything, no matter what. We should never raise our hands even in defense, because if we strike someone, we do as much harm to ourselves as we do to that person. I not only struck someone, I took her sight. I might as well have put a knife to my own chest. I could lose my light if I do more harm to people.”

As she said this her field of light began to dim, until her actual skin colour was becoming visible, and her hair began to fade in light until wisps of sandy brown ginger could be seen. When she lowered her head, her hair flared forward like surprised tendrils. “By my people,” said McMillan, “I have much penance to repay for harming living souls, what more, gods.”

She gave him a helpless look when he inferred that she didn't have to take the mission, but again, she supposed she would need to explain the duality of her reasonings. “I have accepted, yes,” said McMillan, “and I agree with you.”

She gazed at the Kzinti who was running the lounge now, and then back at Nicander, “I am poorly made for most vigours of Starfleet, and my experience is about as good as a newborn Pak'led, but Lucan...” she suddenly reached out with both hands to take one of his, her poor strength and frailty so obvious just from her touch as she tried gripping, “I'm not doing this just for penance...it's really not a big factor, really - even if it should be - but...it's the Lightborn. Look.” She pointed at her PADD, highlighting the part about the pilot, Sera Vers Aldnoah's findings of an ancient culture long gone. The translation hadn't been able to decipher the language very well, and the closest it came to the word "Alata" was Lightborn. Her excitement on the matter was obvious, as her aura of light began to brighten once again. She looked at Nicander with vibrant eyes.

“This could be a lost colony of my people!” said McMillan, “Lucan, on Earth, our Wisdoms and Lore-Keepers can't even remember our original race name. We weren't called Radiant before. We had a name, a language, and our own technology. All of it was lost after we crashed on Earth somewhere in the twentieth century. This could be a chance for me to know if it's my people, and where our home planet is! We could all go home! And uhm...well, I'm sure my people would be happy to help the Theurgy and even shelter you. That is, if they're anything like we are on Earth...”

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #4
[ Dr. Nicander | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage Optional: @steelphoenix 
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Hearing that the Radiant had made up her mind about the mission, Lucan realised that it might not be so easy to manipulate her into not going on it. He could resort to fear-mongering, compelling her to change her mind, but when it was a possible lead on her people's past? That would be more difficult. In fact, any fears he might instil in her mind about going there could - if odds weren't in his favour - have the opposite effect. She seemed to think she would redeem herself if she went on the mission, and elevating her fears might only make her think she had a higher chance at redemption. No, he could not risk that, and especially not when it might make her question his motives.

He found that he was looking down at her hand, feeling the light touch of her skin. The thing inside was coiling like a viper in her presence, but feeling so diminished that Lucan barely saw the images in the beast's mind. The dark notions were barely there, recoiling from her light. It made him feel more whole, and less prone to hear the malign whispers in his mind. Truly, it confirmed what she had done to him during the battle at Starbase 84, but she seemed to have no inkling about what her powers truly meant. She was the key, and yet she didn't know it. If she did, she would not risk her life going to that moon, but telling her preventing Lucan from helping the crew, and he did not believe anyone could replace his first-hand knowledge of what the enemy truly was.

"If you think it's best for you," he said with a warm smile and put his other hand on top of hers, careful to not hurt her in doing so. Meanwhile, he wanted to tell her what he truly feared. They have seen you through my eyes. They know the role of your people. Right now, they seek your family, and mean to kill them all.

"I hope you find what you seek, and if there are allies out there, on some distant planet, we can use all the help we can get," he added, stroking the back of her hand with his fingers. Meanwhile, in bittersweet thought, he wished to tell her, I hope they are well hidden on Earth, and if they are already lost... this path you take is the only resort we have left. If not the Radiants on Earth are alive, perhaps there are more of you out there.

"If it means anything, you should know that I am worried for you, and I hope you are careful on this mission. Your true nature might have been hidden from us until recently, but you have still left a big impression." He removed his tattooed hands from hers, sat back in his chair, surrendering to the fact that she would gamble everything on the rare chance of finding her ancestors. By the winds, I just hope we don't loose you - this bridge between darkness and light.

Frowning, as if in afterthought, he wondered at something she'd said twice. "When you say 'gods', what do you mean? I fail to grasp what you're suggesting."

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #5
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage , @Auctor Lucan 

A wall near the bar seemed to shift and fade, the holographic bulkhead revealing the galley access beyond.  Deacon had spent what little free time he'd managed to reclaim after dealing with security and returning to Below Decks to start a reasonable, if rudimentary, dinner prep while simultaneously attempting to improve the quality of holographic personnel that would be expected to assist in the lounge.  An assortment of prototypes flickered like half-forgotten memories in the kitchen area behind him as he stepped out, stretching his limbs and rotating his joints.

He was thankful for the exercise.  If he'd spent one more minute convalescing from some alien virus, surgery or attempt on his life, he'd go out of his mind for lack of things to do.  Kzinti enjoyed their down time, but now kzin enjoyed protracted inactivity.

Looking about the lounge, he noted a handful of patrons making use of the facilities before the official dinner shift began, though, as he expected, there were precious few that he recognized, and most of those he attributed to the fact that so many humans tended to look alike to him.  The inordinate number of red-haired females seemed to come to mind.

A familiar scent, however, caught his attention, drawing his gaze to the far end of the lounge.  Dr. Nicander, the one who had, in the course of a few hours, undone what it had taken a legion of kzinti geneticists and surgeons an entire season to inflict on him as a child.  Of course, there were to be some lingering effects that would require some follow-up... physical therapy, vitamin boosters, changes to his dietary regimen.  At least there wouldn't be days of screaming and pain.  He had no desire to relive those moments.

As he moved towards the table where the doctor sat, he noticed a companion -- another new and unfamiliar face.  Female, again.  But there was something... off... about this one.  Her appearance bore all the superficial trappings of humanity, but her coloration was anything but, and the way she seemed to bleed beyond the visual spectrum, not merely reflecting ultraviolet or projecting the heat of her body, but instead like an artist's brush stretching beyond the constraints of the canvas. 

Her scent, too, held an almost artificial quality, like the burning of incense -- somewhere between a hologram and a human.  The fragrance didn't so much exude from her as cover her like a cloak.  He almost expected that the doctor had managed to generate some sort of artificial company, but as he drew closer, his ziirgah dispelled any pretense of artificiality.

In an instant, his head swam, at once beset with sensations of self-loathing, fatigue, but oddly enough, a sense of forbidden excitement.  Placing his hand against the back of the doctor's chair, he tried to steady himself even as his senses were striving so valiantly to overwhelm him.

"Doctor," he said, forcing the greeting as pleasantly as he could through gritted teeth and clenched eyes.  If only he could seal his ears, nose and mind so readily, he thought.  Whoever this female was, she was positively crippling and he needed to find a reason as to why.  "I wasn't expecting so many so early.  I'm preparing a dinner shift to start at the top of the hour," he continued, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #6
[ Heather McMillan | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan & @steelphoenix
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There was that strange urge again, which made McMillan's brow crease ever so slightly, but her half-open-lipped smile stayed, and her eyes did not frown, as she wondered why only the good doctor seemed to make her want to shine brighter than would otherwise be safe or tolerant for people. She quashed it quickly, not proud of the fact she was feeling the desire to do potential harm. It went against everything she had been raised to believe beyond religiously, but as a part of life. No Radiant was ever to do harm in any way, not to each other, not to any living thing, but most of all, never to the gods. They whom the Radiant were made for the sole purpose of protecting.

“Thank you for understanding,” said McMillan, “Yeah, I think it'll be good to find friends and allies.”

She blushed, by way of her face glowing pink, when he expressed concern and also the fact that he cared for her wellbeing, beyond just a doctor. Smiling, she said, “Thank you. I'll be careful, I promise, and I remember, you and Hylota Vojona were the first to ever see me as I truly am...” she reached up to brush stray strands of hair that floated down over her face, giving him a wan smile, “...you could say that was where I was...awakened.”

When he asked her about her slip, she blanched, I said that out loud?. There was no going around it without making it weird, so she opted to just simply be honest. She already was giving him a big culture lesson today, might as well go a little further. She shrugged lightly and said, “You're all so superior to us...to Radiants, and it's...uhm, well it's not really an inferiority or religious issue that we have, but we just accept that you're all better, more powerful; Humans, Klingons, Vulcans, Pakleds, Ferengi...you're like gods to us. We don't worship you, mind, but it's...uhm...well, you know how some might regard Human Augments? Something like that. You're gods, and we are Radiant. Walking lightbulbs made of sand.”

She leaned back and smiled sheepishly, not sure how much of a nutter Nicander thought she was now. But she had no time to ponder on it too much before she saw the mighty feline being approaching from behind the doctor. She suspected that if he had approached her from behind, she wouldn't have been aware of him until he so chose to reveal himself, and so she reacted with a soft “Oh!” when she saw him coming up to them. He frightened her with his expression, but she wondered if he was in pain too, based on the way he clenched his eyes.

Are his eyes sensitive to light? She wondered, Is he a Caitian? No, no, something different about him...Kzinti? I think that's it. What's wrong with him? Why does he look pained? Oh bollocks! My light! I must be blinding him! “Sorry...uh...sir...” said McMillan, “I'll bring it down.”

She quickly suppressed her light, and her skin tone, her natural cream peach skin colour became visible, while her hair returned to a brown shade, and her eyes and face were all normal now. It caused her a strain now to not shine, but she gritted her teeth and bore the strain. “I hope it's better now. I do apologize for that, and I also hope I didn't impose on you when I placed my order, I wasn't aware that there was a specific time...I'll remember that next time.”

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #7
[ Dr. Nicander | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: 1)@steelphoenix 2) @Triage
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Hearing Heather say she and her kind were inferior to other species, Lucan meant to object. For while he couldn't tell her what he knew about her powers, he had meant to tell her that there was more to all species than one might think. He was about to give her examples, and encourage her to put more faith in herself. In her presence, he felt like himself, and wished to share with her some things he had learned on Aldea, to speak of Humans, Trill, Cardassians, even the Pakled. There were too many arguments to disprove her rationale about Radiants being anything less...

...but he was interrupted by the Kzinti. Maryk, or Deacon, whom he was surprised to see outside sickbay. The large man was out of surgery only a couple of hours past. The attack on his person had summoned Security to sickbay in the middle of the quarantine, a quarantine that the Kzin and another Caitian had broken.

Lucan whirled to his feet, his white coat billowing out slightly to lend support to the Kzin and give him look of admonition. "By the winds, what are you doing here?" he said, and when he saw that Deacon - or Maryk - could support his own weight for the moment, he put his hands on his hips and frowned at the Kzin. Heather spoke as well, and brought down the light she emitted in the lounge. After she made her apology, Lucan spoke up to the proprietor.

"You should not be preparing any shift at all. I wondered where you had gone after the word of the attack reached my ears. I assumed that - given the outbreak - you had been moved to an isolation ward in one of our auxiliary med bays, and the nurses had failed to fill out the transfer report. But no, here you are! Up and about without giving any care to the fact that I just resequenced almost half of your DNA and reconstructed your lost physique mere hours ago. What in the winds make you think you have the strength to push yourself this way? You should not undergo any strenuous activity for quite some time. Some parts of your body has never been used before, mere constructs summoned out of your genome. Most importantly, you have not given yourself enough time for your body to re-adapt to itself, and the seams of your internal surgery might split at any kind of early provocation."

Sighing, Lucan raked a tattooed hand through his unkempt hair, pale grey eyes glaring at this new patient in a long line of morons who thought themselves invincible as soon as the medical procedures were done with and they were ordered to rest. "If sickbay wasn't full of patients already, I'd drag you there by the tail myself," he said in his faded accent, knowing fully well that it might have been a humorous image conveyed in his words given their size difference, but he did not care. He dealt with moronic patients all day long. "Yet since I'm a Doctor, and not a shuttle tug, it would hardly be constructive. So, you will instead make full use of the holographic staff options here in this lounge, easing the burden from yourself, and I will have nurses come by and check on you on a regular basis. Is that understood?"

Taking a step closer, Lucan did not let up, for he wanted to drive his point home fully. Perhaps it was the effect of the Radiant that made him care as much as he did, but at that moment, hos reasons didn't matter to him. Fair or not, the Kzin would know the full extent of his 'debt', as it were. As intimidating as the large felnoid was, he wouldn't even know just how little Lucan cared about that aspect.

"Can you guess how many lives I could have saved today, had I not been forced to spend the majority of it reconstructing you?" The small pupils of his opaque eyes stared at the man, before he turned away. "Keep that in mind... when you choose to neglect your recovery, and risk adding your life to that tally. Earn this, before and after you meet with Captain Ives... and share what you said in Dewitt's report when you came aboard."

Glancing towards the Radiant as he walked away, angry still, he smiled to her nonetheless. "McMillan, best of luck on your mission, and make sure you come back safe and sound." He was perfectly prepared for a retort from either of them, to stop and round on them with answer... but he hoped the first would be somewhat humbled, and the second would heed his word. He, and only he, knew they were both important in their own ways, since the Kzin would speak of what the parasites already knew about the Kzinti...

...and the Radiant could light the way in the darkness ahead.

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #8
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage , @Auctor Lucan 

The female seemed to dim, her colors realigning to her shape, taking a more recognizable definition and allowing his eyes to return from the edge of visual cacophony.  "It's fine.  Just takes a moment for those of us with heightened senses to take it all in.  And the replicators are covering for everything leading up to the dinner shift," he responded, waving his hand as he straightened himself to make a less stressful greeting, until Dr. Nicander rose to turn on him, demanding to know what he was doing in the lounge in the first place.

Deacon was at once conflicted.  His gut instinct was to snap at the smaller man, to rise to the challenge he'd seen fit to bring to his place of livelihood.  Conversely, Deacon recognized that his life had been saved through the doctor's efforts.  So the quandary remained -- to speak out or not?

I'm only preparing a meal, not hunting it in the wilds.  At least, that was what he planned to say, half in effort to save some face for himself while simultaneously acknowledging that he respected the care and effort the doctor had taken on his behalf.  Kzinti don't convalesce.  I am doing what I can to earn my place on this vessel.  You're yelling at me for someone attacking me in recovery and me not killing them in response?  More excuses that traveled to the tip of his tongue to stare out of his half-open mouth without committing to voice.  Even as the doctor insisted that he make full use of the holographic personnel in the lounge, Deacon cast a mute glance in the direction of the galley, half-wanting to respond that he'd, in fact, been working to improve the holograms so that they could do just that.

He wanted to go so far as to explain that he'd already arranged to take time for physical therapy and regular follow ups in sickbay starting first thing tomorrow.  Sending a bevy of nurses to check on him seemed overkill.  In truth, it was not until the doctor weighed his own life against those of others that Deacon's sense of shock was nearly overwhelmed by anger.  Even with his ears rolled back, his mouth closed and his fur ruffled slightly.  Jaw set tightly, he forced himself to swallow any bitter retort even as the doctor turned to depart.

Slowly, he turned his attention back to Heather, keenly aware that she had bore witness to his dressing down.  "Good thing he's not a shuttle tug.  After all that, he'd probably pull my tail out by the root," he said, his effort to lighten the mood as awkward as it was obvious. 

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #9
[ Heather McMillan | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan & @steelphoenix
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She eyed Nicander nervously when he looked ready to speak, but he had become aware of the Kzinti...and he was not happy to see the feline man. She let out a soft squeak when he rose up and the tiny Radiant had the brief imagination of a firestorm rising in a tornado, blazing and billowing, when the Câroon whirled around to face the dark-furred man. Her very dim glow showed a white shade of light, in stark fear. The Kzinti looked like a stormcloud facing a hurricane.

She thought he was going to yell at the doctor, and she didn't like where it was going. Peace, she thought fervently, Oh Light, let there be peace!

Despite the signs of it, she watched, and lowered her hands from her mouth, that she didn't know she had raised to clasp over her lips, the Kzinti said nothing in retaliation, and took the scolding in stoic silence. It was rather impressive, but then, gods always had a way of surprising her. She gave a grimace of a smile to Nicander when he spoke to her, “Yeap! Th-thanks...” she said in the squeakiest, tiniest voice ever, “I-I-I will...reasonably sure I will.”

She blinked and looked at the Kzin, and processed what he said, and she had the weirdest image of a scale-sized head of Dr. Nicander at the front of a shuttle tug, and it was the stupidest, and funniest imagery she ever perceived in her star-brain. She blurted out a nervous laugh, then had a little more levity in her laughter. “I-I'm sure your tail will be quite all right!” said McMillan when she stopped laughing, “If...if not...I mean the Light forbid it does come off, I'm sure I can help put it back! Uh that is if you want me to!”

Her eyes shone with blue light, turning her irises into a ring of iridescent colour.

Re: Day 02 [1800 hrs.] To Weaponize Light

Reply #10
[ Deacon | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Triage , @Auctor Lucan 

Deacon regarded the curious light-woman with a half-raised eyebrow.  At least she wasn't killing his eyes any longer although she was far from inconspicuous, standing out like a beacon among the others in the lounge.  By comparison, even the holograms seemed washed out and bland.  Maybe she was part of the doctor's plan?  Drag her around to where former patients were working and see if she can evoke a reaction out of them?  No, that didn't quite make sense since humans were nowhere near as acute in their senses, plus it seemed woefully inefficient.  Clearly she had to be a special gift just for him.

He sighed.  The doctor was someone not to be treated lightly, it seemed.

"If you'll excuse me," he said, inclining his head.  "I should get back to preparing for the dinner shift."  With that, he turned, still rubbing slightly at the bridge of his nose, and returned to the galley.

FIN

 
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