Star Trek: Theurgy

Epi S: [Day 03 | 0615] A Man's Purpose

January 19, 2026, 06:56:38 PM

[ 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.

Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0615] A Man's Purpose

Reply #1 – January 23, 2026, 07:45:21 PM

Lt. JG Callax Valin | Recovery Ward | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] @Ellen Fitz
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Convalescence was a bitch.

Cal was bored. He knew, of course, that this laying around and doing nothing was a normal part of the healing process. A necessary step in allowing his body to recovery after the traumatic injuries he had sustained. He was not going to complain but damn it was annoying not being able to do anything. Cal was about to play what felt like his 312th game of three-dimensional chess on his PADD when the doors to the room slid open.

When Cal made out who it was that entered, he said upright a bit more stiffly, not quite able to stand or sit at attention.

"Sir."

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Valin,” Commander Cross said evenly, stopping at the foot of his bed. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Cross. I’ve reviewed Doctor Leux’s reports.”

Oh great, here comes more good news, he thought to himself, expecting another hammer to fall. What would it be this time? Honorable discharge?

Cross continued.

“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.”

The Ardanan exhaled softly and closed his eyes as he processed the news. He had been grounded. Not for any conduct of his own, but because his body was broken. It was a fate worse than discharge for the pilot whose entire childhood had been spent flying amongst the cloud. Suddenly, it felt like he was tumbling down to the planet surface.

When Cal reopened his eyes he simply nodded, offering no commentary as he stared ahead of him as if seeing something beyond the walls and bulkhead of the ship.

“I’m not here to deliver bad news,” Cross continued 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.”

Cal's attention shifted to the Commander, meeting his gaze with his own. He was intrigued.

“Command Adjutant.”

They wanted him to be a damned secretary?!

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.”

It sure felt like a consolation role. A glorified PADD-pusher creating schedules and writing personnel reports. But what was the alternative? Catch an STD on Risa as he waits for reassignment? He did not want to leave the Theurgy. Not after everything that had happened.

“Regardless of which option you choose,” Cross said, “your record supports a promotion to Lieutenant. That will proceed.” He inclined his head slightly. “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.”

There were some Gandalf vibes there that Cal could not ignore. He met the man's eyes again. Cal was not going to let an injury define him, nor take him away from the work they needed to complete. The mission was not over and he was not about to call it quits. Not after the sacrifices of the crew and his fellow pilots.

"I accept."

Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0615] A Man's Purpose

Reply #2 – January 24, 2026, 02:22:51 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Recovery Ward | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ] @Eden

Cross didn’t react outwardly when Cal said I accept. No nod of approval, no visible easing of tension. Just a quiet exhale through his nose, the kind that marked a decision locking into place rather than relief.

“Good,” he said simply.

He stepped closer to the biobed, lowering his voice—not out of secrecy, but courtesy. Sickbay was a place where dignity mattered, even when time didn’t.

“There’s something you need to understand up front, Lieutenant,” Cross continued, pale eyes steady on Cal’s. “I can’t give you the luxury of waiting until you’re discharged to start.” A beat, letting that register. “I wouldn’t be here if I could.” He shifted his weight slightly, hands clasped behind his back again—controlled, but not cold.

“With the President's arrival and the situation we’re in, I need help now,” Cross said. “Real help. Reports, readiness assessments, departmental status updates. Tactical, medical, engineering, operations—everything has to be current, clean, and internally consistent. We can’t afford fuckups.” A pause. “Not to impress the President—though it doesn’t hurt that, for the moment, she appears to be on Team Theurgy—but because the margin for error is gone.”

Cross glanced briefly around the ward, then back to Cal.

“I’ll have a series of PADDs brought to you later today,” he said. “You’ll start from here. From the biobed if that’s what it takes. You’ll review, flag inconsistencies, chase down missing data, and prep summaries for me. I’ll handle command decisions. You’ll help make sure I’m not making them blind.”

There was a faint tightening around his eyes then—not quite an apology, but close enough that it counted.

“I don’t like doing this,” Cross admitted quietly. “You should have time to heal. All of you should.” A fraction of a pause. “But none of us are getting what we want right now. Including something as basic as time to take a dump in peace.” He straightened slightly, professionalism reasserting itself—but his tone remained human. “So I need to ask,” Cross said. “Not as your superior, but as the man you just agreed to work with.” His gaze held. “Can you handle that?”

He waited, unhurried but intent, knowing full well the answer—and respecting Cal enough to ask anyway.

Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0615] A Man's Purpose

Reply #3 – February 10, 2026, 02:21:54 AM

Lt. JG Callax Valin | Recovery Ward | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy] @Ellen Fitz
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"Good."

Though there was no outward reaction, Cal could sense the finality of his acceptance in the commander's exhalation. His wings were officially clipped and he would be beginning a new life.

The commander continued, detailing the duties of the position and the necessity to begin immediately. Cal listened intently, gaze never straying from that of the senior officer. If he was to be a glorified paper pushing secretary-bureaucrat, he would be the best damned paper pushing secretary-bureaucrat there was. That was just how he was. Whatever task was placed in front of him, he not only wanted to complete it successfully but to go above and beyond. To be the very best.

Cal sat up a bit straighter in the biobed. Though his body still felt broken, it responded to his commands. An improvement. He would walk again, yes, but it would take time for his motor functions to return to their original state. Weeks if not months of physical therapy awaited him as he regained strength in his limbs. If he could speed up that process he would. Whatever it would take.

“...So I need to ask,” Cross said finally. “Not as your superior, but as the man you just agreed to work with.” His gaze held. “Can you handle that?”

"Without a doubt, sir."

Truth be told, Cal ached to be able to do something. Anything. He hated being confined to a biobed. Even the task of reviewing reports and schedules was preferable to the hell that was invalidism.

"Let's get started."

Re: Epi S: [Day 03 | 0615] A Man's Purpose

Reply #4 – February 16, 2026, 02:05:50 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Recovery Ward | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ] @Eden @Stegro88

Cross gave Cal a single, sharp nod as the other man finished. “That will be done,” he replied evenly. “You will have every relevant datapad on your," he glanced at the biobed then askew to a movable cart, "inside the hour. Engineering summaries, requisition backlogs, flagged personnel reports—the entire stack. I expect measurable movement on the high-priority items before the end of the shift.”

Not a threat. Not quite. But the expectation was there, clean and immovable. Bidding the former pilot a polite farewell, he did not linger for further discussion. Cross was already running through the next layers of the day in his head—logistics, readiness reports, the diplomatic traffic he had yet to untangle.

Halfway down the corridor, a tall, broad silhouette moved through the low light—soundless, deliberate. Lorad.

Cross slowed a fraction. The Reman’s presence was difficult to miss: the visor catching overhead illumination, the heavy set of his shoulders, the faint mechanical precision in the movement of his prosthetic arm. Stark’s briefing resurfaced in Cross’s memory—temporal changes, anomalous engagements, unresolved classification flags. Not a reprimand file. But it was a dossier that required clarity.

“Petty Officer Lorad.” His voice carried without sharpness, but it brooked no confusion. He gestured slightly down the corridor. “Walk with me.”

He resumed toward his office without waiting to see if the Reman complied. He knew he would.

“I have been briefed by Commander Stark regarding your recent temporal activities,” Cross continued, hands clasped behind his back as they moved. “There are… irregularities. Circumstances that place you at the edge of several departments’ interests.” A sideways glance—measuring. He hated temporal mechanics; always gave him a headache. “I am less concerned with speculation than I am with intent.” They turned a corner, the corridor quieter here. “What are your expectations moving forward, Petty Officer?” Cross asked. “Regarding your place on this ship. Your duties.”