Star Trek: Theurgy

EPISODE 03: Unconquerable Soul | Chapter 01: Find Me Unafraid [0630 hrs.]

[ USS Theurgy ]

Captain's Log, Stardate 57505.27. Yesterday, the USS Calamity attacked us while the Theurgy and the Harbinger were undergoing repairs on Theta Eridani IV. We lost too many, yet through the valiant efforts of our crews, we managed to fight off the squadrons of Reaver fighters that had entered the atmosphere, all the while the Calamity attacked us with orbital strikes. Cala, the A.I. of that nightmare ship from the 25th century, even caused a planet-wide tectonic event in order to destroy us.

Early morning. Sliding doors opened, and Deputy Than'Ida zh'wann stepped through - armed with a phaser assault rifle. With determined steps she walked forth, and her antennae were immovable in their resolute angles. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, and her eyes stared ahead of her while she walked. In the Security Office, personnel stepped aside for her, shuffling to get out of the way.

We barely made it off the planet, much in thanks to our defence plan. We had set up a shield emitter on one of the mountainsides, and it protected us from the orbital strikes as well as the first assaults by the Reavers. While the shield dome did not last to protect us the whole time of our evacuation, our able engineers managed to raise it anew so that we could get the last shuttles aboard. We could even beam the remaining personnel into our life-pattern buffers. Yet while we ascended from the planet surface, we did not know what awaited us above. It was the very reason why the Calamity left before finishing us off.

As she walked, there was another officer trailing behind her. She wore teal colours, and her step was equally determined - a shadow to the Andorian. In short order, the two walked through another set of sliding doors, and there was a Klingon Security Officer meeting them on the other side. It was Zaraq, the Master-At-Arms, and he also carried a rifle in his large, calloused hands. His wide and strong frame dominated the area behind the doors, yet behind him, seven more security guards waited. They were all silent, not moving a muscle, and Deputy zh'Wann merely paused to exchange a nod with Zaraq, who brought the butt of his rifle up to his shoulder and spread his feet - ready to raise the muzzle of his weapon and fire at a moment's notice. The rest of the guards behind him mirrored his actions. Ida let her midnight blue eyes linger on them for a second more before she turned sharply on her heel and walked away to her left.

Twenty-Four Federation starships. Task Force Archeron. Admiral Sankolov's fleet, sent out to destroy us without pardon. There was no time to go to Warp. It was too late for the Harbinger to escape. All our Valkyrie fighters were out there too, and they would not have lasted for more than seconds against that kind of firepower. Captain Vasser and I tried to buy us time by surrendering. To stall the order of our execution. We gained minutes. No more. As the kind of traitors that we are accused to be, the rules of war does not apply to us any more. There would be no mercy, so they opened fire.

"Lower the force-field," commanded Deputy zh'Wann to the Brig Officer, and the invisible wall to Holding Cell A winked out of existence. As it did, Ida had already raised her rifle - hard eyes along the sights as she aimed at the occupant. "I am sorry, Cinn."

She fired. The phaser beam went straight into the Bajoran's chest. She paused only to make sure her former Chief of Security did not move any more... before she moved on down the Holding Cells.

Yet before they unleashed their onslaught unto us, through stalling just long enough, we had managed to install the phasing cloaks that we developed on on the planet. Our Chief Science and Tactical Officers worked together to create a cloud of radiation thick enough to conceal us from the fleet's collective sensors and targeting systems, and in getting into the cover of this radiation, we cloaked, and thus broke the Treaty of Algeron. When we emerged out of the cloud, we could not believe our eyes. The whole fleet, which seconds earlier had been firing against us... was dead in the water. Lights out. Drifting.

Ida walked out in front of Holding Cell B, eyes seeking the Pinkskin inside. She expected him to be alert after she shot Wenn. She even expected him to scream and shout at her. Regardless what he might do when she appeared before his cell, she did not care. She just raised her assault rifle and took aim - her browride lowering over her gaze as she barked the order. "Lower the second force-field."

And as soon as the field dropped, she fired - the second shot as true as the first. Straight to the chest. Once the thrashing body came to a stand-still, she lingered with her aim towards the prone body upon the deck plates. Lieutenant Commander Carrigan Trent was completely motionless.

At first we thought that the Calamity had ambushed them somehow, killed everyone aboard those twenty-four starships. Cut their power. Life-support gone. Yet soon, we were contacted by a Runabout, and we let it dock with us - taking aboard two unlikely passengers. One that was supposed to be dead, and the other having achieved the impossible. In both cases, because of their unlikely yet timely appearance, we cannot be certain they are who they say they are. Nor can we verify their true nature.
 
Lowering her rifle, Ida turned her head to seek the gaze of the woman in teal colours - who now stood next to the eight Security Officers. It was Hayden Quinn O'Connor, the Chief Counsellor.

The Deputy nodded to the Pinkskin. "Confirm," she merely said, moving back to Wenn Cinn's Holding Cell. She increased the setting on her rifle to maximum and raised the butt to her shoulder again, levelling her sights against the massive bulk of the Bajoran lying on the floor. "I will cover you, Counsellor."

Because of recent events, and since the vague memories of the Niga Incident remains with us... the hatred for our enemy is great. We might have to ensure the safety of our new passengers. Otherwise, there is no telling what the crew might do to them if the suspicions grow too strong.

                                                                                                                       

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OOC: Stay tuned, more to follow before your posting commence here...

Eyes staring straight-ahead as they made their way to the holding cells, images of the recent past came unbidden to Hayden O'Connor's mind.  Her time aboard the Harbinger seemed like another lifetime now, as distant from her memory as any images or events that would constitute her first remembrance of being alive.  There were battle memories too, remembered not by hits felt or bulkheads or other parts damaged, but by wounds treated and more profoundly, by wounds that could not be treated.

She saw herself talking with, perhaps more accurately, debating with, her new Captain.  She could still feel the slight hint of personal betrayal as she learned she was being traded away to another ship, and then the guilt of allowing it.  She saw Amikris, very much alive, trying to find solace in her own waters while feeling quite alone.  Hayden turned her head slightly away from the phantom image, the thought that Hayden had caused her pain, however temporarily, in the last moments of her life, simply too painful.

Hayden saw herself walking toward another brig cell not too long ago, and felt a  mixture of shame and rage as she was reminded she had actually felt sorry...sorry! for Sonya Acreth.  She saw Dr. Nicander's surprise as he was pulled toward the forcefield, voltage making him light up and writhe from the inside out.  She swallowed hard, casting her eyes on the woman standing in front of her, reminded she was nearly beaten to death in the process.

And though she tried to fight it, she saw Cir'Cie, but even worse than that, she saw Them (or more accurately, Their eyes -- in the depths of Hayden's mind, there was no need to explain who 'They' were or their significance).  She knew their names on some level, but mercifully, they did not come unbidden.

So vivid were these recollections, Hayden wasn't pulled from them until she was addressed directly.  In fact, there was a slight delay before the counselor reacted, though if Ida noticed, she did not comment.  Wordlessly, O'Connor knelt beside the prone form and opened her tricorder, its whirring and beeping some of the few sounds present. 

Her face completely impassive, it was less than a minute before she closed her tricorder and moved to the other cell and repeated her routine.  Like the Security Officer,  Hayden seemed barely aware of Ida's presence, or if she was fully aware, she was not going to make it known until she had to.  Still kneeling over Cin's body, she met Ida's eyes and offered flatly, "He's out.  They're both out."

With careful attention and her weapon raised, Deputy zh'Wann followed the movements of the Counsellor as she crouched down by the first, and then the second new passenger on the Theurgy. The Pinkskin seemed vaguely...  taken with what they all had been through lately, and personally, Ida could not blame her. While the Counsellor might have had the luxury to wear her emotions on her sleeve a bit more than Ida could, the Andorian sympathised with her wholeheartedly. She caught herself holding her breath, and not just because her aim would be most true when she exhaled and the grip of her rifle relaxed. No, because, the word of Hayden O'Connor had great significance, and would not only prove that the potential threat in the Brig had been undone, but that Ida's crude methodology had been authenticated.

When it came, Ida relaxed her stance... lowering her rifle. "Identities confirmed," she said, turning her head to Zaraq, who also lowered his rifle together with the other security personnel at the entrance to the Brig. "Dismissed. The Brig Officer and I remain with the Counsellor."

"Yes, Deputy," said the Klingon, and filed out through the sliding doors. Meanwhile Ida lowered her rifle to her side and tapped her combadge, stretching her neck. She walked further down the line of holding cells as she spoke.

"Record interrogation log," she said, "We have verified the true nature of our two passengers through somewhat more unconventional means than Medical would do, yet we have a doctor here to verify this fact. Since we have a specimen of the enemy in custody, we could make a medical comparison between this specimen - known as Ensign Sonja Acreth - and the two passenger that yesterday came to us from the USS Archeron. Chief Counsellor Hayden O'Connor has scanned the two passenger after they were both stunned with a low setting, and the findings are positive. They are, in fact, stunned - scans showing this for a fact."

Ida came to stand in front of Holding Cell D, at the farthest end of the brig, and she looked into the dark eyes of Sonja Acreth, who silently stood there on the other side of the forcefield. "It should be noted for the record," said Ida and met the gaze of the prisoner, "that Ensign Acreth could only be stunned with several phaser beams at the highest setting. Furthermore, the situation in which the passengers were stunned were made to look hostile towards them. This, in order to prevent them from feigning their reactions."

On the other side of the forcefield, Acreth said nothing - standing there in her black underwear. She just smiled and raised her still blood-coated hands. She began to clap slowly, tauntingly, in congratulations towards their findings - mocking them as if they were children discovering how to use a spoon. Ida gave the prisoner a cool stare before she walked back to the Counsellor.

"Interrogations will now proceed. Counsellor O'Connor will begin speaking with Commander Wenn in his cell, while I will speak with Commander Trent." Ida held out the hand to accept one of the prepared hyposprays that would return the passengers to a conscious state. "The cells will have activated audio filters, where the Brig Officer will be able to monitor the development for sake of our safety, but not listen in. An audio recording will, however, be made for the Security interrogations with both passengers respectively. Pause interrogation log."

The Deputy took a deep breath and spoke to the Pinkskin. "Well done, Counsellor. Let's see how angry they are, shall we? Remember, just use your combadge to contact the Brig Officer." Ida went to the posted Petty Officer, handing him her rifle. "He will be watching, making sure you are safe. You need not worry, though. Commander Wenn may look imposing, yet the Ridge-nose is a good man."

Stepping back and into Commander Trent's holding cell, Ida turned the hypospray over in her hands while O'Connor prepared herself. "One hour, then we switch. Activate the force-fields and the audio filters... now."

Ida looked down upon the Pinkskin with the prosthetic limbs, running some white hair behind her ear before crouching down. There was no point in waiting, yet it she took a moment to organise her thoughts before she pressed the cold muzzle of the hypospray to Carrigan Trent's neck and inoculated him.

"Resume interrogation recording," she said quietly and stepped away, casually seating herself on the pre-cast titanium bedstead and its mattress, rolling the hypospray in her hands. She merely waited for the expected reaction. She made sure to look non-threatening where she sat, antennae raised, and her blue countenance impassive.

---

OOC: CanadianVet and The Counselor, you are next in independent order, then TheBanshee, since I would not presume to write how Hayden O'Connor decides to wake Wenn Cinn up. :)

Sleeping in a brig was never a pleasant thing. Every Intelligence officer had gone through some form of resistance to interrogation. And part of this captivity was very much like his training. Save that in this case, he would have to cooperate and not seek out to escape. So, despite having a few openings to attempt to make a move, Carrigan Trent sat very still on the bunk when the forcefield was dropped to deliver his dinner and to retrieve the empty tray later. He even thanked the guards who had performed both duties.

His sleep hadn't been peaceful either, waking up every time the door to the rest of the ship opened when the officer of the watch did his rounds or the brig officer was spelled off. And it had happened a few times when the Andorian officer had finally returned with a detachment of guards, all of them heavily armed. The shriek of the phaser-fire chased the last of the slumber from his mind and he jumped to his feet, just in time for the forcefield to be dropped. "No wait, don't" was all he managed to cry out before the energy discharge struck him in the center of the chest and slammed him against the bulkhead, splitting his scalp in the process.

It was the sharp sting of a hypospray that brought Trent out of his slumber. The emergence from this darkness elicited an involuntary panic reaction from him as once again, he relived some of the worst times of his life.

First, there was the pain of his eardrums rupturing and of his exposed flesh being ripped apart from the inside by the hard vacuum of space. Then, the panic of suffocation as his lungs were begging for air that he'd just exhaled as an attempt to prevent more damage. And the cold of open space. His vision grew blurred then dim, a combination of the moisture being sucked from his eyeballs and the lack of oxygen. Then, just as he drifted off, the slight tingling of a transporter beam.

The next thing he knew was the sting of a hypospray. And, thanks to the inability to medicate him while in stasis, the excruciating phantom pain from his missing limbs.

A formless cry escaped Carrigan's lips as he came to in the brig and once he saw his aggressor sitting on the bunk, he scrambled backwards, leaving a trail of blood from the cut in the back of his head behind him. Once he came to a stop, he gathered his legs beneath him and rose unsteadily, obviously shaken from the combination of the phaser blast and the stimulant he'd been injected with. But there was no hiding his fury despite his somewhat wobbly stance, a state of mind only furthered emphasized by the blood that stained his hair, neck and collar.

"What is this? Is this a starship or some Breen slave transport? Is this how you keep your Captain's word?"

Indeed, Jien Ives' promise of fair treatment and safeguard from any harm still rang in Lieutenant Commander Trent's mind despite the splitting headache he was now affected by. Having had some time to think, he knew he could trust both this ship's seniormost officers. But this unwarranted attack on a cooperative prisoner by this member of the security team? That, to the human, went clearly against the guarantees he had been given.

Only when the Pinkskin began to move did she notice that he was bleeding from the back of his head. She frowned in concern and tapped her combadge before he even reached the wall. "zh'Wann to Sickbay. We are in need of medical assistance in the Brig. Holding Cell B."

When he was on his feet, the expected reaction came, and Ida slowly rose from her seat while the loud words still rang from the walls. She took a few steps closer but seeing him so upset made her stop. She put her hands on her hips and looked towards the ceiling in thought. "I wish it was merely ironic that the Captain and I am were not exactly on the best of terms before this morning, but it's not. Irony has nothing to do with this, for it could only have been me that did this. I would not order anyone on my team to do what needed to be done... because of the exact reason you just pointed out. "

Ida's voyage up to that point in the Brig had been harsh. She had lost her integrity as a woman under the most nightmarish circumstances, seen three superior officers die in action, been tricked by an alien entity to make love to one of those, one mere day before he was killed by the Calamity. Now, the first of her lost Chiefs walked their decks again - as if to taunt her. Whilst infected, she had almost caused the collapse of the entire Galaxy together with the Vulcan named Cir'Cie. On top of this, she had lost the good faith of her Captain four times over.

The first time had been when Cinn died, and now he was alive, as if her paralysed episode in the face of danger had been entirely moot: that she had frozen needlessly when her crew needed her aide. It had caused David Grayson to be promoted over her. The second time, Ida had made the crew her priority, and chosen to take measures to ensure that another prisoner - now First Officer - would not cause any trouble for the mission. Her method had been more in line with her time as a Guardsman in the Imperial Guard, since she had done so by death-threat and at phaser-point - something she deeply regretted in hindsight. The third, she had acted in haste in the Harbinger Brig, and while she was confident she had made the right choice, her Captain had not agreed with her. Still, Sonja Acreth had been kept from escaping. The fourth, she had followed up on discrepancies in Ensign Carver's report, just doing her job. Carver had not reacted well, and things had gone out of hand, ending up with Ida finally demoted and Skye supposedly cleared from suspicions.

"What I have done," she continued without pause, "was for the crew as a whole. Yet also for you, because I have just cleared you of all suspicions of being one of them." It was quite clear whom she meant. Ida kept her distance, remaining in the middle of the cell because the Intelligence Officer would not let her close unless he knew she meant well.

"Do you understand, Lieutenant Commander? I devised a way to detect them, and the two of you were the field test. Before this, we had no way to be sure. In essence, you were lightly stunned for sake of being redeemed in the eyes of us survivors on the Theurgy. Now, you are free to leave this Brig after we have talked a while, and the crew will not think you an enemy."

Ida always put the crew's safety in the first room, and given present circumstances, she could not have neglected her duties merely for the sake of a promise that the Captain might have made in ignorance. She folded her arms underneath her breasts, cocking a hip where she stood. "I assure you, it was absolutely necessary, but it was never my intention to hurt you. Will you please let me take a look on your head before a doctor arrives? I will explain everything."
 

Carrigan Trent's footing was growing more stable by the second, but there remained a degree of dizziness he could not attribute to the phaser blast or the stimulant. Of anything, he was suspecting a concussion from his head impacting the bulkhead as evidenced by the smear of blood he had left there and on the deck.

Despite the fact his mind had not fully cleared, he did not fail to understand the Andorian woman's words. So, already she was not in Captain Ives' good books and was not overly worried about the drastic nature of her testing measure. And, something Trent could respect, was her decision to shoulder the whole blame instead of making one of her subordinates fire. And her logic, although to the Intelligence officer lacked supporting evidence, seemed sound.

Indeed, if a mild phaser blast was an effective test, it might explain the first thing Trent had noticed about Admiral Sankolov, namely his ordering of the shrimp jambalaya at one of the weekly working lunches as Sisko's when he was afflicted by a severe allergy to seafood and suffered no ill effects. If whatever this enemy was could prevent anaphylactic reactions, then who knew just how much it could do? That was when he had to speak, his tone sharp but there was a slight hint of dry humour, as indeed there was a certain ironic quality to the situation.

"I have never heard of shooting someone as being favourable to their health before. I would like to see what hard evidence you had to come up with your theory. If it is sound, then I will try to keep the Captain from tearing you a new one. Jien Ives strikes me as someone who doesn't much care for being made a liar out of. And seeing how you're already in the doghouse you probably can't afford to refuse what assistance I can give you."

A sudden wave of dizziness hit the Lieutenant Commander just as he finished talking and it was only by leaning heavily against the bulkhead that he managed to remain on his feet. "Not much you can do for me. Not unless you can treat a concussion."

Slowly, he then lowered himself to the deck, leaving yet another smear of blood on the bulkhead in the process. "So," deciding to trust this Andorian at least to a small degree Trent chose to talk instead of resorting to his resistance to interrogation training, "what is it you want to talk about?"

Standing there, Ida could have guess that the Pinkskin would not take kindly to being shot, and especially not when hitting his head in the process. She was pleased to hear that he was willing to listen despite it all, and let her detail what needed to be known for him to understand the necessity. That he would protect her from Captain Ives was on its own a chivalrous offer, but the comment that she might depend upon his assistance kind of turned that on its head. It made her smirk and lower her antennae, thinking that he continued to try and get the upper hand in every hopeless situation, just like in the Flight Hangar. Either it was a defence mechanism, or he was just pompous arse. A quite stellar arse, admittedly.

"How very generous of you," she said, her sarcasm quite evident. She unfolded her arms and stepped forward, unzipping her uniform jacket before she crouched down right next him. As she met his gaze at close range, her eyes may have been firm, yet her tone was indifferent. "Let me worry about Ives, you just worry about your head and making sure you stay awake. I am under no illusion to redeem my own name along with yours, even if I have come up with a way to detect them. I told you, the safety of the crew is my primary concern, not my bloody career on this outlaw ship."

Indeed, the moment O'Connor had spoken, and Wenn Cinn was proven to be himself, Ida knew he would resume command in Security eventually - making the crew safe again. She'd had doubts about David Grayson being an able man when he was promoted, and Ben vessery had not been able to prove himself a leader before he died, yet Wenn Cinn was a Chief she would entrust the crew to, someone she could follow without question. Regardless if he wanted her to to be Deputy again or would see her demoted once more.

"The Harbinger found us in the Hromi Cluster. Nine days ago," she said in a low voice, casually pulling back her jacket from her shoulders and tugging the sleeves free from her arms. She reached up to lay her blue hand against his graying hair, smoothing it away at the back to see where the blood came from. "They had an Ensign aboard, named Sonja Acreth. She had been discovered sending subspace messages back to the Sol System, and she had been thrown in their Brig."

Tilting her head, the light playing over her high cheekbones and her neck as she looked to the SI officer's wound, Ida continued. "Our enemy either has connections with some faction in the Temporal Cold War of the 29th century, or they are that faction themselves. Regardless, they have access to tech and weapons not yet developed. They sent a Calamity-class hunter ship with a purely holographic crew for us and the Harbinger. The A.I. introduced itself as Cala, short for the starship's name; the USS Calamity. It attacked us just then, meaning to... how do you say it? Kill two fish with one stone?"

Finding the injury, Ida kept his short hair away from the area and balled up her uniform jacket with her free hand. "Together, and with a stroke of genius from the late director of the Valkyrie Program, we managed to damage the Calamity enough for it to make a tactical retreat. We set down on Theta Eridani IV, spending one week of repairs there. During this time, we chose to interrogate Ensign Sonja Acreth."

She pressed the jacket against the bleeding area, slowly laying her hand against the Pinkskin's forehead to keep him still. "We used an oculus device in the forcefield to get a tissue sample from her, but just as Chief Medical Officer Nicander was on to something, speaking of a plausible theory concerning interphapsic parasites taking over higher brain functions, Ensign Acreth reached out through the oculus and pulled Dr. Nicander into the forcefield. He would not have lasted long since the forcefield had a high energy setting."

Looking at Carrigan Trent underneath her hand, she made sure he was not drifting off. "I ordered the forcefield dropped to save his life. Yet we lost someone else. These joined enemies we face, they are not just usurpers. No power-mongering, political creatures. They augment their hosts. Stronger. Faster. Able to withstand multiple phaser beams at the highest stun setting. I did not know. None of us did. Nicander lived after medical treatment, but we lost the Harbinger's CSec in mere moments. We were lucky. She could have killed both the Captains and the First Officers if I had not managed to hold on to my rifle. Lean back with your head now."

Having ensured that the Pinkskin would not lessen the pressure against her jacket, she removed her hand from his forehead. "Right now, she is in the holding cell at the far end of the corridor," she said quietly, nodding in that direction, "covered in the blood of the dozens of people she killed when she tried to escape the second time. It took a whole firing squad with rifles and hand phasers to subdue her that time, just before she would have taken control of the Harbinger's helm and rammed the Theurgy."

Crouching next to him still, she rested her arms on her knees as she looked into his eyes. "Does things make more sense to you now, Lieutenant Commander?"

Carrigan did not resist when the Security officer closed in and proceeded to try and staunch the bleeding from his scalp. Even if he had wanted to, he doubted he would even be able to make a decent show of it, not in his current state. However, he knew the laceration wasn't necessarily serious even with the apparent amount of blood involved. Scalp wounds were like that after all.

While he did not reply when she mentioned he should worry about himself and not her future, he did manage a smile. So perhaps this Andorian was in this gig for the right reasons. Perhaps her judgement was not the best but she did have her heart, or was it hearts as he really had no knowledge of Andorian physiology, in the right spot.

Despite his pounding headache, he listened carefully as she told of recent events. So, in the last week or so both renegade starships had been through the wringer. And they had to deal with an infiltrator already. So perhaps their caution was indeed warranted. And that supposition was further supported by the junior Lieutenant's report about this Acreth woman.
 
And finally, he spoke after taking some time to digest the information given to him. "Yes, I am starting to understand, Lieutenant. Now, I'm no use to anyone in this cell. May I trouble you to track down my belongings and to arrange for a chance to shower, shave and put on a fresh uniform once the medic you called for patches me up?  If I am free to go, I would like to request a meeting with Captain Ives and Commander Rez as soon as possible."

Content that the Lieutenant Commander would not move as he sat against the bulkhead with her uniform jacket bundled up to cradle his head, Ida took a deep breath and stood up next to him, casually smoothing down her yellow undershirt over her sides and her flat stomach. "I have a report to fill out that entails a lot of information about you, but I suppose I can get that from the database. You are free to go once that head is seen to and I have filed my report. As for a shower, you look just fine to me, Pinkskin."

I'm the Deputy, not your personal assistant. And that stubble suits you. She smirked and turned her back towards him, slowly stepping away - her hands on her hips. "Your belongings are outside in one of the Brig Officer's compartments. You can take your request for quarters to our Quartermaster, and an appointment with our commanding officers to Yeoman Henshaw. They are likely to want to see you anyway. I am sure I will be able to arrange for your security clearance and send the report about your release to the Yeoman ahead of time while you are being patched up. The Chief Counsellor may want to have a word with you too before long. Personally, I just have a couple of last questions..."

The Deputy turned towards him again, her smirk gone and her antennae curved forth in attention. "Exactly when and how did you encounter Lieutenant Commander Wenn Cinn aboard the USS Archeron, and what made you trust a supposedly dead man to accompany you in the Runabout? I gathered from yesterday that the virus was your doing, so how did the two of you end up arriving together?"

After she got her answers, a voice came from the combadge in Ida's pocket. [Deputy, we have a Doctor Maya here, requesting to enter your holding cell.]

Ida paused while she fished out the combadge, but she did not respond right away. "Lastly, I would like to thank you. If it had not been for you, the entire crew would have died yesterday. We have been through a great deal, and like you said about the innocent that were killed in the process of shutting down that fleet, it would have been a shame if it was all for naught." She jammed her thumb into the metallic Starfleet insignia in her hand. "Understood, let her through. Lower the force field for her. Computer, end interrogation log. "

As the shimmering wall winked out of existence, Ida inclined her head to Trent in parting. "Sorry for the head. Good day, Lieutenant Commander. Welcome aboard, for what it's worth."

Then she was gone, passing by the Vulcan in the corridor with a quiet nod.

---

OOC: The way I see it, it does not matter who posts next in this holding cell, CanadianVet or Doctor Maya. Banshee, The Counsellor has said over IM that her post is imminent.

Hayden barely registered Ida's mild praise and instructions with a nod before reaching for her own hypospray to awaken her own charge, Commander Wen.   The last thing she wanted was to be congratulated for standing by while she watched more people in harm's way.  Granted, they were only being stunned, but none of their prisoners knew that, and for a healer like Hayden who was specifically charged with treating psychological wounds, inflicting them was unconscionable.  That it was the only way to ensure their new arrivals were who they said they were was as troublesome for O'Connor as it was accurate.  She couldn't help but think of the decisions she had already made in the name of survival, and she shuddered to think how far they would all go in the end, assuming they even survived.

Entering the cell, and kneeling before the prone body of Wenn, Hayden took out her tricorder once more to confirm what she already knew.  He was stunned, but breathing, just as she'd said.  Exhaling in relief, she also confirmed there were no acute injuries beyond those caused by the stun that needed tending to.  Of course, she would do a more complete exam once Wenn was alert and not as likely to punch anyone.  A brief tricorder scan was enough to reassure her there were no emergent issues, but nothing short of a complete workup physically and psychologically would satisfy her. This would seem only prudent professionally, and she expected no one to question it.  She wouldn't deny it provided the added benefit of alleviating some of her guilt as well, though as amends it was entirely inadequate, in her heart.

Cir'Cie's words stuck in her brain on a loop.  Was she more important after all?

Pressing the hypospray to the man's neck as if to banish the thought, she remained kneeling beside him, ready to offer reassurance, but not attempting to block his movement.

At that moment, a short slender female Vulcan entered the brig.  The teal colored collar on her uniform had a single pip, indicating she was an ensign.  The medical kit she carried made her function onboard obvious.  "Doctor Maya reporting for duty as ordered," she said in a quiet high pitched voice that had a strange, almost Irish lilt.  Wherever she had learned Federation Standard English, it wasn't at the academy.  "I understand I have a patient."

Lieutenant Junior Grade Zaraq, the burly master-at-arms nodded.  "Second cell down the hall," the massive Klingon grunted as he indicated with his head.  His calloused hands didn't let go of his phaser rifle for a second.  "Lieutenant zh'Wann's with him now.  You can't miss him."

"Thank you," the little Vulcan nodded serenely as she daintily walked past him into the hallway. 

She was distracted by the first prisoner she saw, and Vulcans were notoriously hard to distract.  In the first cell was an attractive brunette woman whose teal collar indicated that she was either in Sciences or Medicine.  She was bending over a huge sehlat of a Bajoran male with a shaved head wearing a Starfleet uniform that had a gold collar.  It was none other than the late Lieutenant Commander Wenn Cinn, the Theurgy's former chief of security.  If memory served he had been sucked out into space when the ship had suffered a hull breach.  To say that Maya had medical curiosity would be something of an understatement.

"Is that Commander Cinn?" she asked with a calm innocence that only Vulcans could maintain for any length of time.  "I must say he's looking better than reports would lead one to expect."
 

Ida heard the question as she nodded to the doctor in passing, she stopped on her way to file her report on Carrigan Trent and answered.

"For someone dead, he does look surprisingly well," she said ruefully and took a chart from the Brig Control desk, starting to tap in the information. When she was done, she would join the Counsellor in Wenn Cinn's cell.

"Your patient is in the next cell, Doctor. Let us know when you are done with him and Zaraq will lower the force field and let you both out. The audiofilters will be in place if the Lieutenant Commander wants some privacy during his treatment."

---

OOC: Just a short one to ease things on and to have Maya go to the cell with Carrigan Trent. I wasn't sure who Maya was speaking with so I had Ida answer. This should work, I think. Please refrain from opening for more dialogue with Zaraq and Ida now since Maya has a patient waiting. ;)

Maya pursed her lips as she reluctantly took her eyes off the formerly deceased Bajoran and moved to her patient's cell.  When she arrived she had her unreadable 'Vulcan face' ready.  Inside was a tall gaunt human male who had a world-weary, cynical air to him.  His intelligent grey eyes and rugged, yet symmetrical features were atheistically pleasing despite the story of hardship etched on his face.  He had definitely been through Vulcan's Forge; that was certain.  He didn't even have artificial skin on the biosynthetic prosthetic that served as his left hand.

Maya's hazel eyes drank him in as her mouth twitched awkwardly before settling into a polite smile.  How did Terrans, Bajorans, Andorians, and Risians make it look so easy?  Maya's smile had earned her the nickname  'the Uncanny Valley Girl' at Starfleet Medical and she still had difficulty getting a friendly smile right.  She had let her bangs and her pageboy haircut grow to conceal both her up-swept arched eyebrows and pointed ears but when it came to being human she could never really sell it.

"Hello Commander," she greeted as she stepped inside and opened her medical kit.  "I'm Doctor Maya.  I see you have suffered a laceration.  Are you experiencing any pain?"

When the Andorian officer asked him about his meeting with Wenn Cinn, Carrigan offered a wry smile. "We met in the Runabout just after launch and we had ourselves a good old-fashioned standoff. It took some doing but we managed to come to an understanding and dropped our weapons. As for trusting him, you can call it a combination of factors. First, too many people saw him dead and that would destroy any potential use as one of those impostors. Second, his file identifies him as deeply devout. So, if the Prophets decided to bring a Human back then resurrecting a Bajoran isn't that far-fetched, is it? And third, we didn't have much of a choice to trust each other."

Once his answer was given and the security officer left with her thanks, Trent did not have to wait long for someone from Medical to come and see to him. Looking up, he saw the diminutive Vulcan who approached him. At first, she wore that impassive face that was so common to that species. If anything, it felt rather haughty and arrogant to Trent, as if Vulcans actually despised anyone not ascribing to their tenets of logic.

But then, something he had never encountered in his two decades wearing a Starfleet uniform happened. He saw a Vulcan actually smile. It was strangely contrived but there seemed to be a genuine feeling behind it. And the way she spoke, with something akin to an Irish brogue, did not have the cold formality of typical Vulcan speech patterns. This one was different all right.

When she asked if he was hurting anywhere, Carrigan raised his left hand and rested it on his left knee, a muted sound of metal on metal sounding as the prosthetic anterior limb landed on his synthetic leg. "Good morning Doctor," he started politely before actually answering her question. "The cut only stings a little, but between getting stunned, the stimulant I was given and my head slamming into the bulkhead I have a splitting headache. And it feels like I have a bit of a concussion."

"Let us find out," she said in a conversational tone, "but first let us clean your wound.  If you'll sit down and turn your back to me Commander?"  She reached into her medikit and extracted a portable steri-field emitter and passed over his wound.  "I apologize for your incarceration and poor treatment Commander," she said as if she was discussing the weather.  "I know it is difficult to believe but while we are fugitives we are not criminals." 

She checked herself.  It wasn't her place to tell him about the parasites that had taken over Starfleet.  If he didn't know already, that knowledge would prevent him from ever leaving.  It was the captain's choice whether or not to inform him, not hers.  For a woman trained since childhood to keep her inner thoughts hidden, Maya wasn't good at keeping a secret.  Although the popular belief was 'Vulcans never lie' a more accurate expression would be 'Vulcans aren't very good at lying, for they lack the imagination to do so effectively'. 

She changed frequencies in an attempt to cover her mistake.  "May I ask you your name Commander?" she asked as she returned her steri-field emitter to the medical kit and extracted a dermal regenerator. "It would be helpful in order to access your medical file.  Your biosynthetic limbs indicate that your medical history would be informative."  Slim chance of that.  The Theurgy had been cut off from Starfleet's subspace information network in order to prevent their enemies from tracking them.  Unless her patient's files were already in their computers, he would need to undergo a full medical examination.

Trent did as he was bid, simply pivoting from where he was already seated on the deck as to expose the bloody gash on the back of his head to the Vulcan physician. When she elaborated on the situation, the Human could not help his tired smile. "Doctor, the logic of keeping me locked up didn't escape me. Although while stunning me was a fast and effective test to see if I am who I claim I am. I would prefer something less unpleasant. And I know about this ship and her crew, and our enemy. No need to mince words, Doc."

This Vulcan seemed unusually verbose. Even to the point of divulging things she thought she ought not to discuss. Again, this was rather fascinating. Vulcans were known for their reserve and apparently unshakable confidence. This one seemed rather uneasy, jittery even. And her switching tracks did not escape the Intelligence officer.

"Carrigan Trent," he answered quietly. "And if you must know, I lost an arm and a leg to a bursting EPS conduit and getting spaced during the Dominion War. I'd rather not talk about it."

There was no mistaking it: Trent did not want to discuss such things. The loss of his ship, the death of nearly two thirds of her crew, his injuries, his exposure to hard vacuum, the pain, the months of physical therapy and counselling. Those were painful memories and he was in no hurry to revisit them in his waking hours. His nightmares were already enough.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance Mister Trent,” the Vulcan almost-smiled as she applied the dermal regenerator to his injured scalp.  “The war doesn’t hold pleasant memories for most of us, but I suspect that I am an exception.  I found the Dominion War an uplifting experience of belonging and renewal.”

Maya was pleased with herself.  If Mister Trent didn’t want to talk about himself, her bizarre comment would induce him to ask the little Vulcan about her own history, anything to keep the reason for their flight a subject of conversation.  The fact that Maya was born over two and a half centuries ago should be a perfect distraction.

She frowned.  “Excuse me but did you say you were stunned to verify your identity?  Is that how you were injured?  Not while trying to escape?"

Cinn didn't even have the chance to make a sound in protest as Ida dropped the confinement field and fired.  He'd been turning around to face the group of arrivals when the stun had sent him crashing to the floor.  There hadn't even been time to think about what was happening to him this time or question why they would resort to this method of interrogation.

Yet as he awoke some part of his brain automatically recalled the shot that had taken him down and the automatic response, drilled into him over the years of Starfleet training fell from his lips.  The sound was heavy and groggy the first time, unintelligible mumbling.  As he opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings he eased himself up onto his elbows and repeated the words.

"Wenn Cinn, Lieutenant Commander, MA 230 382."

He started to be able to focus on the figure knelt next to him, a pale, skinny human woman.   He repeated the phrase, stronger this time as he shook his head and began to stand.  His vision and mind clearing from the foggy remnants of the blast he frowned but made no attempt to try to get past the physically inferior crew member.  Instead he cautiously returned to the bed, sat down and crossed his arms over his chest.

His eyes went to hers, holding her in a steely glare.  He didn't know what the hell was going on here but he was in that seething calm that belied his true anger at the treatment he had just been subjected to.

Once more he repeated the phrase, quietly, calmly and chillingly smooth, "Wenn Cinn, Lieutenant Commander, MA 230 382."

"You must be joking." Trent's voice had gone from quiet and polite to quite and cold and hard, unyielding as the alloys at the heart of a starship's structure. Uplifiting? Belonging? Renewal? The Dominion War was no such thing for anyone who had participated in it. Millions had been killed, likely billions. Starfleet had lost dozens if not hundreds of ships and tens of thousands of men.

There was no glory in that war. Only a struggle for survival.

"Have you lost anyone in the war, Ensign?"  Carrigan's tone was still flat and cold, his face starting to show the strain of restraining himself.

Indeed, he had once held the rank of Commander and had a ship of his own. Perhaps the USS Harrier was only a minor starship, Saber-class but she had been his. Perhaps the crew were only one in name when he took over and the entire senior staff had to be changed, but he had forged them into as fine a crew as could be through his leadership. He had given them success in the first few months of the Dominion war until he fell into an ambush.

"I had a ship once, and a crew. Sixty men and women who trusted me with their lives and I failed them. Thirty-seven of them were lost at the same time as the Harrier. The same day I lost my arm and my leg. I guarantee you, the 'belonging' you describe isn't edifying, it is survival. Renewal? There was none for anyone. Uplifting? Only maybe for those lucky Klingon who survived the worst the Jem'Hadar could dish out."

The Intelligence Officer took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And yes, I was stunned as a test. I'm here to join the crew, not to destroy it so escape attempts weren't on my to-do list. And if a confirmed impostor could withstand an obscene number of shots set to maximum stun, then I would have shrugged off one set to minimum power if I had been one of them. I obviously didn't."

Finally, be closed his eyes. "Look Doctor, I have no idea what sort of Vulcan you are but please, be quiet, patch me up, treat my concussion and be on your way. I understand you don't know me or anything about me so I apologize if I was short with you. But right now I really don't feel like talking. I just want to get out of this brig, clean up, have some breakfast and do something useful, all right?"

It was obvious why Maya had so few friends.  Her knack for saying precisely the wrong thing bordered on the supernatural.   It was a failure to remember basic exopsychology; other species didn't have the ability to separate themselves from their emotions the way Vulcans did.  It was a mistake an intern would make and Maya had blundered into it.  Of course Mister Trent was offended, who wouldn't be?  Even Vulcans found Maya insufferable.   Distracting Trent away from the conspiracy in Starfleet was now a hollow victory.

"My apologies Mister Trent," she said stiffly as she put the dermal regenerator back in the medkit.  She now held a hygienic biocleanser.  Her 'Vulcan face' was in place and her voice, casual and conversational before was now flat and dead.  "No doubt my words sounded blasphemous.   I spent the war away from the front, back at Starfleet Medical.   Despite the shadow of the war against the Dominion, I experienced a sense of patriotism and belonging that I hadn't felt before.  A whole new civilization was before me, a union of civilizations, with the freedom of choice to live as one chooses that I had never imagined could exist.  Rather than being a foreigner simply allowed to participate, I was a citizen who belonged to the entire Alpha Quadrant.  Truly, the United Federation of Planets was something I had wished for all my life.  So in comparison to the last war I was in, I could describe my experience during the Dominion War as 'positive.'  I apologize for not taking your experiences into consideration.  You have sacrificed so much to protect the civilization I cherish, and my comments were both insensitive and belittling.   There is no justification for my remarks.  They were inexcusable."

"To answer your question, no, I didn't lose anyone in the recent war," she said in a businesslike tone.  "I had no one to lose.  I lost everyone I knew in a previous war, but the Dominion War gave me a place to belong, a place in Starfleet.  A place you literally gave an arm and a leg to protect.  I should display gratitude but thanks to my traditional upbringing it seems I am unable to extend such a simple gesture.   I can only give you an empty apology and offer to speak to the captain on your behalf.  In the meantime, I would like permission to telempathically diagnose your cranium and apply medicinal neuropressure to treat your head.  You might feel better.  I may lack the bedside manner to relieve your emotional pain but I can at least relieve your physical distress."

The doctor's swift change in demeanour was not lost on the Intelligence officer. That was odd, to say the least. Typically, Vulcans did not modify their behaviour even after realizing they had caused offence. Their lack of emotions tended to either make them either completely oblivious to whatever slight they have offered as a result of their lack of understanding or were delivering a calculated insult to their interlocutor.

But in the Maya's case, it seemed as though she genuinely grasped she had said something grossly inappropriate and she had retreated into something closer to the better-known Vulcan aloofness. Part of Carrigan's interest was piqued by this anomaly but his curiosity found itself suppressed by his cold anger and just general weariness at his situation.

As such, he did not overly pay attention to the physician's rather long-winded apology, up until she made mention of some less conventional treatment methods. She wanted to poke into his brain and his mind using her natural gifts? That was enough to cause him to swiftly turn his head towards the woman, his gaze narrowed to hard slits.

"Actually, I do mind," replied he. As an Intelligence officer, he was privy to a great deal of classified information. Information that, despite the Theurgy's crew status as outlaws, was still to be limited to properly cleared personnel who had a need to know. "I can't allow you to go snooping around in my head. There is too much floating in there you don't have clearance for. You have a tricorder, some instruments, a hypospray and some meds in your kit. Please use those."

“Very well Mister Trent,” she acquiesced coldly, but since she was a Vulcan it was hard to tell.  She placed a neurocortical monitor, a small device that looked like a 21st century hearing aid on her patient’s parietal bone, just under and behind his left hear and looked at her medical tricorder.   Her telempathic diagnosis would read information from his cerebellum not his cerebrum, but there was no point explaining that to Mister Trent. 

The brig was not a place that fostered trust.  When someone was sent there it meant that trust had broken down entirely.  When a physician is summoned to the brig it often means that the amount of trust available has dropped to almost nil.  Maya had been foolish to practice her ‘bedside manner’ with ‘small talk’ on Mister Trent.  All she had done was convince him that the people aboard this ship were deranged and as bloodthirsty as a stereotypical Klingon.  If Captain Ives wanted to recruit Mister Trent she had just sabotaged that effort.  Before she left she had to undo the damage she had done.

She removed the neurocortical monitor and placed her index fingers behind his ears to press on both of his parietal bones as she sent a minute jolt of mental simulation into his synapses.   “That should treat your concussion,” she said as she closed her medkit and moved in front of him.  “If you need anything else don’t hesitate to ask.” 

She paused before the exit and turned to address him.  “Mister Trent, before I go I would like to clarify the remark I said earlier.  Before I entered Starfleet Medical I was aboard a starship that lost eighty percent of its crew before being hurled over two centuries into the future to what you would call the present day.  Not only did I lose most of my shipmates but I also lost everyone I knew before I volunteered to join a human crew to assist in Earth’s conflict with the Romulans.  I understand what’s it’s like to suffer loss but the point I was trying to make was that even something as horrible as the Dominion War can present an opportunity and a place to belong.  I hope you’re time aboard the Theurgy turns out to be as positive an experience for you as the Dominion War was for me.  We are not criminals Mister Trent, we are patriots, and we are as loyal the Federation and its ideals as you are.”  She nodded her head and gave a respectful bow.  “If you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.  I look forward to speaking with you again.”

With that she left the cell and walked down the corridor.  “Mister Trent is fit and ready for duty,” she told Zaraq, “and has expressed a desire to do something useful.  If you need me I’ll be in sickbay.”

---

OOC:  Maya has now left the brig, freeing the stage for other characters.

Hayden expected Wenn to be confused and even outraged, so in those first few obviously groggy moments, her only focus was on taking action.  She needed to explain what had just happened and why, and do her best to offer reassurance.  So intent was she on these tasks that it actually took her by surprise (damn, her emotions kept doing that and it had to stop) when the formerly "dead" man pulled away from her and sat up on his own, seemingly intent on staying as far from her as he possibly could.  O'Connor was taken so aback, at first she failed to register what he was saying.  Then it took her a moment more to process why he was saying it.

He believed himself to be a prisoner of war, and he believed she was his captor. 

As he quickly made his way to the cot with nothing but the familiar refrain of name, rank, and serial number spoken between them, Hayden needed only to meet his eyes to realize he believed her to be the one who shot him.  Of course, hindsight would prove such an assumption perfectly logical.  Wenn was groggy, confused, with only the memory of being shot to factor into his current understanding of reality.  She couldn't expect him to remember or even care that his assailant was not her at all.

Hayden understood all of this intellectually, but for those first few moments, all *she* could process was that she was being looked at in the same accusing way that she had been when she set a group of her former crewmates to their deaths.  She felt anger well inside her.  Hayden O'Connor wasn't a monster.  Or, at least, she didn't used to be.  When he made it to the bed, and was clearly trying to disguise some degree of distress through glaring anger, emotional reality returned to Hayden O'Connor.

She stood up, but kept her distance from him.  Allowing her medkit to clatter to the floor, she put both hands out in front of her, as if she was trying to steady a wounded and frightened animal.  The anger that had flared up in her so quickly turned to sympathy and concern just as quickly.  "My name is Dr. Hayden O'Connor.  I'm a doctor and counselor with the USS Theurgy, and I will not hurt you.  I'm sorry our security officer had to shoot you.  It was the only way to ensure you weren't an impostor.  I'd like to examine you, but to do that, I need to come closer.  Is that ok with you?"

As Cinn observed the woman who had been kneeling beside him when he had come around from the stun he could see the range of emotions.  Sure he wasn't a psychologist but he had seen his fair share of liars and innocents in his time.  The flash of rage, showing only as a micro-expression, that briefly shot across her face was the clincher.  There was a story behind it and he'd pressed the button that had caused it.

This woman was one of the innocents and there were no lies in her words as she stood up and held out her hands.  As quickly as the cool, seething had come to his face it was gone again, realising that whatever was going on there had to be damned good reason for it.  Being angry at someone who was honestly just trying to help him would do no good at all and was undeserved.

"Dr O'Connor," he began, "so long as you are convinced that I am who I say I am you can do what you need to do."

Uncrossing his arms and laying his hands on his knees he waited for her to pick up her medkit and give him the check over.  There was an element of relief as he did so, knowing that whatever test this was seemed to work and that he had passed it.  He was back on board his ship with the people who knew the truth and would do everything they could to free the Federation from the parasitic infestation at its core.

"I feel fine," he said as she approached, "the Prophets did a damned good job at repairing whatever damage there was."  He paused for a moment and held her gaze once more, "I hope you can understand why I reacted the way I did just now.  For a moment there I thought the ship had been... compromised."

Given her emotional state, hearing Cinn apologize for his perfectly understandable reaction, Hayden felt more than a twinge of guilt.  She quickly pushed it away.  It was an awkward situation all around, and the truth was, she was planning to apologize again right alongside him for her own part in it all. In any case, it broke the ice, and it was a way of conveying to Hayden she wouldn't have to worry about some sort of retaliation for ending up on the other end of a phaser stun.

O'Connor bent down to retrieve her tricorder and used the short opportunity to steady herself and gather her focus.  Cinn's words served as a reminder Hayden really didn't know much beyond the fact he wasn't a traitor and he was supposed to be dead.  Did that make him trustworthy?  Time would certainly tell.  Hayden supposed she should use this one on one opportunity to get a feel for the man in front of her, but she was acutely aware of the likely trauma just surviving "death" likely entailed, and her desire to bring healing and support to a situation that had previously brought fear and pain, was at the fore.

Hayden approached with tricorder in hand and offered a wry smile. "Honestly, the only thing I trust at this moment is you are not one of *them.*  Beyond that, I'm not sure who you are, but in time, I'm hoping to get to know you better.  I've been told you were presumed dead, so I'm sure there's quite a story there.  I imagine it may not be easy to relive or to talk about, but if you're comfortable, it'd help us to feel safer to clarify some details.  First things first, though," she added, opening the tricorder and beginning to scan.  A quick visual once over suggested there were no acute injuries to address.

At Hayden's words Cinn let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, "Presumed dead by the Captain and crew perhaps but I did die out there."

He paused for a moment as he once again remembered that moment, his muscles flexed as he almost tried to stop himself from being pulled out of the ship in his memory, "I was spaced... I still remember the cold and the fading lights as I floated away from the ship.  The Prophets brought me back... but that's another story."  The fact she wasn't a Bajoran meant she probably wouldn't have the same reverence for what most people would call the 'Wormhole Aliens' and really right now he didn't want to discuss theology with a doctor he barely knew regarding a situation he could still barely get his own head around.

"When I woke up I was in a stasis pod, I'm not sure if it was my travel companion or another helping hand from the Prophets that meant it had malfunctioned but either way it had and I was definitely not dead anymore."

He looked at the slim figure standing beside him, his eyes trailing up her body to her face with her high cheekbones, where he met her brown eyes with his dark chocolate ones.  His voice, rumbling and soft asked gently with an amused smirk pulling at his lips, "So how does it look Doc? Will I live?"

By that point, Deputy ThanIda zh'Wann had come to stand outside the forcefield, and with a quick command to the Brig Officer, it lowered for her. Arms folded but with a PADD in one hand, she stepped into the cell, silently watching Wenn Cinn and the Counsellor, the latter who seemed to just have scanned her former Chief with a medical tricorder. Ida had not heard Cinn's query to the human, so she walked up to them both with words of her own.

"Lor'Vela," she said with emotion, eyes moving over him - able too look upon the Ridge-nose up close for the first time since he returned, "you are wearing the same uniform as when you vanished through that shredded bulkhead. Same cuts and scrapes. I remember seeing that sleeve and shoulder snag and tear as we climbed the jefferies tubes between Decks 03 and 04. You were never fit to climb those. Even less so when the ship is under fire."

She had meant to ask questions. Explain the situation, yet seeing her old Chief and now knowing that it was no trick made her uncharacteristically sentimental. She cleared her throat, glancing in the Counsellor's direction before she addressed the things that might matter for Wenn Cinn. "I do not know what Dr. O'Connor has said yet, but I hope you understand that we have no alternative way to learn if you were truly you, and not the enemy. We have one of them locked up three cells down the hallway, and we have managed to device the crude test by scanning the enemy while she was stunned, seeing what the readings would look like if in that condition. I am, however, still sorry for shooting you, sir."

Her antennae rising, she realised that she was still emotional, even though her face betrayed little in that regard. She decided to stop talking for the time being, slowly withdrawing to the other side of the room to sit on the bunk - hands clasped and leaning forward with her forearms on her knees. She did not want to interfere with the medical examination, even if she wanted to ask her own questions too. Glancing towards the human doctor in the room, she chose to wait in quietude, starting to fill out her report about the release of Wenn Cinn and the restoration of his Security Clearence.

Every once and a while, she glanced up - barely being able to credit her eyes when seeing him.

Hayden was in the process of reviewing her scans when Cinn began to speak of his ordeal.  Out of respect for what he'd been through and the compelling nature of his words, Hayden made a point to look him in the eyes as he spoke, her scans once more momentarily forgotten.  While in therapist mode, she'd said words that had opened the proverbial flood gates for him, and it would rude, not to mention irresponsible of her not to use the opportunity to assess his credibility.

It took conscious effort for Hayden to keep her expression appropriate for the occasion.  She had to express enough concern not to seem cold but not so much emotion that her empathy could be used against her.  Hayden was becoming acutely aware of how her own emotions could work against her, and the last thing she wanted to do was let more people down.  Still, she was struck by how calm and matter of fact he was about the details of such a significant and surely traumatic event.  Hayden supposed what she was seeing was a product of the passage of time and his security officer's training.  Despite him knowing she was a therapist and physician by training, his just the facts accounting reflected either a shrewd calculation on his part or an avoidance of the emotion connected to the event.

If Hayden had to decide right in the moment, she'd report the latter.  O'Connor made a mental note to follow-up on that later.  Hayden added his name to her mental list, which honestly included every member of the crew thus far.  She looked down at her tricorder and was about to reply when she heard a voice.  Turning to see zhWann'Ida, Hayden was at first startled and then mildly irritated.  Cinn may have been a prisoner but he was still entitled to confidentiality during a medical or psychological exam.

Upon hearing the security officer confirm what she already believed and then apologize for her actions, Hayden couldn't be too upset.  If O'Connor had the opportunity to apologize to the people she'd harmed, wild horses couldn't keep her away.  Unfortunately, in the case of the crew she'd killed, that would never be possible.  Seeing the security officer move a discreet distance away, O'Connor focused fully on her scans for a final time.  Hayden looked up at him and with a wry smile, offered, "I see no medical concerns which need immediate attention.  I would, however, like to do a more thorough exam in the near future to see if we can get to the bottom of how you survived.  Also, it would not be unreasonable given what you've been through, to expect this is all going to hit you emotionally at some point.  Considering you're now in relative safety, I expect this to happen sooner rather than later.  I'd like to check in with you tomorrow as a precaution.  Deal?"

Hayden caught Ida's eye out of the corner of her own.  Now that she had joined Hayden, the counselor gathered she would not be handling any additional questioning alone.

The voice that pulled his attention from that of the Doctor was certainly a welcome sound to hear. zh'Wann, his former deputy, had arrived to do her part of the job no doubt.  He watched as she eyed him up and down, inspecting him as though he was merely a spectre and she was waiting for him to fade once more into the ether.  The betrayal of her voice of her emotion at seeing him again gave him a warm glow.  It was good to know he'd been missed by someone at least, especially someone as close as he and Ida had been before the incident.

When she made mention of his uniform he chuckled, "They weren't considerate enough to put me in a dress uniform to bury me I'm afraid, Ida.  As for not fitting in the JTs I was always fit enough to climb in them, they weren't fit enough to accommodate me."

"Being stunned is the nicest thing that has happened to me for a while when you compare it to everything else that's happened.  I was grateful for the rest so no hard feelings.  I'm glad to know there's a test of some kind out there for those things," Cinn nodded with a tight-lipped smile, "Until I'm cleared for duty I'm not 'sir', I'm Cinn.  That's even if Jien'll let me have my old job back."

His attention went back to the Doctor as she spoke once more and his eyebrows rose a little at the idea that this would hit him emotionally at any stage.  He'd never been one for outbursts of emotion, dealing with things in his own way through prayer and meditation rather than venting to anyone else.  Faith had helped him through the Occupation and his faith had seen him brought back to the fight now, he would deal with his death and resurrection in the same way as he had dealt with all of the traumas he had faced before.

Still, this woman wanted to check in on him tomorrow to make sure that he was coping well.  If he had refused he knew it would mean more checks and sessions, even by agreeing that would probably happen to be fair so it was more than likely a no-win scenario.  The only no-win scenario was the scenario that involved a medical professional, they had sedatives and damned good aim.

Nodding he responded to her request, "Deal Doc.  Does that mean I can go?"

When Cinn suggested that Captain Ives might not want him back in his old role as her superior officer, Ida could barely keep her face straight - containing the snort of laughter that threatened to escape her. She had a month's worth of experiences and unfortunate events to support her educated guess that their Commanding Officer would welcome Cinn back and run his - or her - Security Department even if he would be shrivelled corpse. With Ida's recent track record and the death of two successors, Ida would safely bet a fortune that the Chameloid would have Cinn back in office before the day was over.

She said nothing, however, just smiling knowingly while she filled out her report on her PADD. The Chief Counsellor was not done with the medical examination just yet, but after the initial good news that he was unaffected by his ordeal, Ida looked up when Dr. O'Connor spoke of Cinn's psychological fortitude - her midnight blue eyes moving between the two. Of course, the human would not wish for Ida to be present for that, and she cleared her throat in otherwise hidden chagrin that she had erred when walking in. At this point, a scheduled counselling session might have been for the best, but she had to interject when Cinn asked Lieutenant O'Connor if he was free to leave.

"Not quite yet, si-" said, Ida and caught herself, adhering to his ignorance with a wry amendment, "Cinn. I need to verify when and how you encountered Lieutenant Commander Trent aboard the USS Archeron first. The computer virus was his doing, as much has been made clear, so how did the two of you end up together? What made you trust a stranger when leaving the crippled ship? Even more relevant, why do you think he trusted you - dead as you had been up until that point?"

It was a simple matter of making sure their individual accounts added up, for what it was worth. Interrogation routine, truly, and not that effective either if they tried to hide something together since they could easily have had the time to get their stories straight beforehand. It was, however, effective to verify their individual accounts and confirm the truth in their claims beyond their obvious integrity as the physical beings they were. O'Connor's verification after they had been stunned lingered at the forefront of Ida's memory, and she still felt the immediate relief that Commander Wenn was who he claimed to be.

"Lastly," said Ida next, lowering her PADD - now sitting with one leg over the other, "you have claimed your Bajoran deities - the Prophets - brought you back. If it is not too personal, I would like to put your experiences to the official record as well."

She stood up and took a few steps through the cell, explaining her reasoning. "Individual accounts have varied greatly in regard to these beings, and while Counsellor O'Connor and you may delve into personal details at a later time, the overall experience should be on official record. If nothing else, to help alleviate suspicions among the people still remembering you dying, Cinn."

Coming to a stop before the mountain of a Bajoran, Ida let her hand with the PADD drop to her side. "By Lor'Vela, I would like to know myself too. How can something like this happen?" She gestured with her free hand as she spoke, her antennae rising in consternation. "Starfleet fail to provide a factual, scientific explanation for what has happened to you, and I know that Andorian annals holds no reference to the like, so are we now supposed to count you as immortal for the time being, until the time these Prophets do not need you to be alive any more?"

If she were to be honest to herself, she very much hoped so, and that they would never find him irrelevant.

Cinn was unsurprised that the meeting was not yet over and listened to Ida's questions.  Nodding as she finished he took a breath and began the report of his escape from the ship he had risen from the dead in.

"I woke up in a stasis pod and pushed it open to find the sickbay in total darkness.  I came across a Doctor who gave me information on where I was and what the ship was planning to do.  Gathering the necessary information I knocked the Doctor out and headed to the doors to the corridor.  Once there the gravity turned off and as I pulled myself out into the corridor I saw a male figure floating swiftly past.  I did not know it at the time but from the clothing the figure wore I am now able to identify this figure was Trent. 

I headed to the shuttlebay as fast as the lack of gravity would allow, avoiding contact with the crew to maintain my anonymity.  Upon entering I retrieved a phaser from the panel closest and headed towards the nearest shuttle.  When I saw the doors were already open I proceeded with caution.  The doors closed moments after I boarded and as I moved to the front of the shuttle I made contact with the pilot - Trent.  After a brief stand-off while we exchanged credentials he continued to pilot the shuttle and we returned to the Theurgy.

His reasoning for trusting me was that as I had been dead it would have made no sense for the enemy to have used me being as it would have been all too obvious.  My reason for trusting him was his witnessing and then hearing his confession of what he did to the fleet out there along with gut instinct about his motives."

He took another deep breath, finished with his report, concise and to the point, almost exactly what he would have written had he had the chance to do so.  He moved on to the second part of the story, the prequel to waking up on the Archeron, as Ida had requested.

"It is extremely personal but I understand your desire to have it recorded.  A lot of what went on is something I am not ready to discuss with anyone but they weren't very candid.  What they kept saying was 'The Wenn is of the Theurgy', they were not pleased that my linear existence had been terminated and they rectified the problem.  That's when I woke up in the stasis pod."

He looked up at Ida, "I don't think I'm immortal, just that the Prophets weren't happy with the timing or method of my death.  Whatever they have seen, they want me to be around for it.  It doesn't mean they'll do the same again.  Maybe if I knew what had happened since I died I might be able to make sense of some of it.  It can wait for now, until I find out what is going to happen to me."

Her official business concluded, Hayden stood and stepped back, emotionally and intellectually torn as to what to do next.  She wanted to hear and absorb Cinn's official account as well, and on a professional level, she considered the advantages to doing so.  She was in a unique position to assess whether the details seemed plausible, and indeed whether there was in fact trauma to be addressed in the future.  In addition, there might be distinct medical information she needed to know or at least needed to pass along to those who needed to know. She had every faith in Ida to fulfill her obligations as a security officer, but the medical significance of certain things might prove to be of little note to her.

However, there were several disadvantages to sticking around, not the least of which was the fact that several patients required medical and emotional support back in sickbay.  To remain in the brig to essentially hear the man's war stories when he had agreed to see her later only seemed to compound the feelings of incompetence Hayden had been grappling with of late.  O'Connor also got the distinct impression she would be interfering with the reunion of two old friends, and the last thing she wanted was to feel like a third wheel.  Intellectually, there was also the matter of wanting to distance herself from anything that resembled too much of an official interrogation, as this was not her primary role, and this could certainly confuse the therapeutic rapport she was attempting to build.  Besides, she could always review the official statement later.

O'Connor's decision made, she offered a polite nod to Cinn and Ida before the former could launch into his account.  "Since my official business is concluded, I'll leave you two to your discussion.  I expect you in my office no later than end of day tomorrow," she added to the resurrected security officer.  With that, she took her leave and caught up with the female medical officer who had entered the other cell as she was attending to Cinn.

As she approached, Hayden could see the officer was decidedly female and Vulcan.  "Hello.  I don't believe we've met.  I'm Dr. Hayden O'Connor, Chief Counselor."

Maya turned her head in Hayden's direction and stared with large hazel eyes as she allowed the counselor to catch up.  She believed that this let the person addressing her know that she was paying attention, but in reality just made her look strange.  "Greetings," she nodded by tilting her head to one side.  "I'm Doctor Maya, the ship's neurologist.  Will you be staying aboard the Theurgy long?"

The little neurologist studied the statuesque brunette who had been in Wenn Cinn's cell.  Standing up, the woman was six inches taller than the slightly-built Vulcan, with a slender athletic build that many would find aesthetically pleasing.  Hayden O'Connor's symmetrical features, clear skin and soft pouty lips would be considered attractive if not alluring to a human or any member of a similar species. 

It wasn't Hayden O'Connor's appearance that had Maya's attention, so much as her body language.   Maya's nonverbal communication skills had always been abysmal.  Since the time traveling ensign was telepathic, she instinctively assumed everybody else was too and would interpret the little Vulcan's words the way they were intended.  Mister Trent's reaction to her comments indicated that this wasn't the case, although his negative reaction might have been influenced by being captured and placed in the brig where he was mistreated.  It seemed highly unlikely that Mister Trent would accept the truth from anyone aboard this ship.

Doctor O'Connor however was a professional therapist.  If anyone knew how to engender trust and put people at ease it would be her.  This was an opportunity the little ensign wasn't going to pass up.

While Cinn had spoken, Ida had been making notes on her PADD, glancing up now and then to meet her former Chief's eye when he spoke of how he had been resurrected. While there was little detail, there was enough said to put on record, so Ida chose to not pry - respecting the Bajoran's privacy in the matter. In a way, it was both oddly reassuring and clearly unfortunate that Cinn said he did not believe himself immortal. After so many dead in Starfleet Security, not even listing the names of the whole team that Ensign Acreth had killed on the Harbinger, they had few personnel to spare.

"Thank you, Commander," she said and tapped the touch screen, sending the finished report to Yeoman Henshaw, at which point the Counsellor spoke up and excused herself after affirming that they would schedule a time for a proper counselling session, hopefully not having to be in the Brig that time around. Ida smiled lightly to the Pinkskin in parting. "Thank you for your assistance, Counsellor O'Connor. My gratitude for being able to find the time to clear our two new crew members, despite the unconventional methods that were required."

When she left, Ida was alone with Cinn. All the paperwork was done. All questions asked. His rank's security clearance reinstated. All that was left were the unsaid between them. That which could be spoken now that they were alone. For they had been on the Theurgy for almost three years, Chief and Deputy, shoulder by shoulder keeping the crew in line despite the recent crisis, and dealing with the boarding parties Starfleet had beamed aboard mid-battle. Together, they had kept the crew safe and on their posts despite it all. Seeing him now cast a stark light upon Ida's recent actions, where she'd not had Wenn Cinn to lean on and help shoulder the burden. Alone, she had thought the responsibility was hers to bear on her own, and in order to get the job done, she'd done as much as she could to not unwittingly invite danger or let it go unchecked aboard their ship.

Wordlessly, Ida put the PADD aside on the bunk and walked over to Cinn where he sat - the approach clearly signalling that it was time for him to stand up. When she reached him, her antennae lowered a bit in ease, and her face allowed a thin smile. Since her Chief was no Pinkskin who prefered handshakes, and the Ridgenose seldom indulged in informal gestures of affection, Ida simply embraced the large man with her arms. It was not a hug of intimate affection, but more like a brotherly hug between comrades. They were copartners in an unfinished war, and Ida had been apart from her closest ally for far too long.

"If you die again," she grunted as she parted from him, eyes sharp yet underlined by the curve of her blue lips, "you better not hope your Prophets resurrect you again, for I will send you right back to them myself, you hear?"

It truly was a blessing to see the Ridgenose again, and she hoped the crew would realise how fortunate they were that he had returned to them. She folded her arms and regarded him for a second or two before moving on the the practicalities. "I made sure your personal affections were not fed to the replicators. I have them in a box here in Security. I think there was a spare uniform there as well."

Ida stepped out, leading the way through Cinn's old Security Office. "Come, see the new faces we have. We have lost many, but the Harbinger chipped in with new able men and women to fill the gaps."

Cinn stood, glad that his spell on the wrong side of the field was over.  As the Andorian's arms enveloped him Cinn allowed himself a genuine smile and closed his eyes for a moment.  This contact proving once again he was really alive meant far more to him than Ida probably realised.  His own arms returned the gesture, feeling as though he was back in the fight and almost back the way things were before.

Her words as she stood back made him laugh, he should have expected as much really.  Cinn shook his head and smiled, "I hope for their sake and my own that the next time I die it will be permanent."  The news of his personal effects being safe was also a relief, particularly with the presence of another uniform there.  He glanced down at himself and shook his head, "I think the uniform should be the first stop.  Not exactly going to win any leadership points with the new recruits if I'm looking like I've just been blown out of the side of a ship."

He walked forwards and out of the cell, "Then I think we need to sit down and go over the records of what happened in my absence... I should really speak to the Captain too regarding my status here.  How about over dinner?  It feels like a month since I last ate anything."

Hayden thought by the shorter woman's wide eyes she had frightened her, but despite what seemed to be her quite startled expression, the doctor gave no other sign she was surprised or even agitated.  It was unusual to see such an emotion driven response from a Vulcan without a hint of acknowledgement.  Surprised in her own right, it took a moment for O'Connor to recall the other woman's introduction and question.  Continuing to smile in what she hoped would be seen as a gesture of warmth, O'Connor offered.  "Pleased to meet you, Maya.  I have been assigned to the Theurgy as Chief Counselor, so yes, I plan to be here for as long as possible."

She felt no need to explain that she had been part of the Harbinger crew first and had then been traded so to speak during a Captain to Captain discussion that when it was reported to her made her feel like chattel.  Nor did she think it necessary to mention she planned to serve the Theurgy as long as she managed to live, which taking into consideration their circumstances, might not be long.

She didn't realize how her size might be intimidating, as she wasn't used to thinking of herself as terribly formidable in most circumstances.  Offering her hand tentatively for the doctor to shake, she hoped she wasn't insulting her culturally.  Now that she had the opportunity to make friends with a fellow healer, she realized how very much she wanted it to happen.

Maya blinked as she realized that she was speaking with the ship's new counselor.  The crew now had a counselor, something they needed as badly as weaponry that could defeat the Calamity.   Lieutenant O'Connor was smiling and extending her hand so she was actually allowing the little Vulcan into her personal space, something very few people did. 

The little Vulcan stood there and grimaced strangely before fixing a somewhat artificial smile on her face as she extended a large spidery hand back.  Her psychic shields were up to prevent any unwanted mental contact.  A friendly greeting wasn't an invitation to invade someone's privacy after all.  Maya's gentle grip was cool and dry.   Vulcans didn't sweat and their body temperatures were surprisingly low for a species hailing from a hot arid world.

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor O'Connor," Maya said in her soft lilting voice, nearly repeating Hayden's greeting word for word.  "On behalf of all of us, thank you for joining our crew.  If it's any consolation you are greatly needed here."   When she spoke her grin vanished.  She hadn't quite gotten the knack of grinning and conversing simultaneously.  Smiling in front of a stranger was difficult for Maya.  It was like trying to urinate when someone else was present.  Even though she knew how to do it, it was a challenge she didn't always overcome.

In the meantime, Maya was careful not to mention the obvious:  If Hayden O'Connor's commanding officer had transferred the Harbinger's counselor to the Theurgy, the most likely reason was that Captain Vasser was planning a suicide mission and was evacuating all personnel that weren't essential to success.  It was likely that O'Connor would never see her shipmates again and would soon need counseling herself.  For all intents and purposes the crew of the Theurgy was the friendly human's family now.   For the sake of the counselor and her new charges it was essential to make Hayden feel as welcome and accepted as possible as quickly as possible.  The problem was that Maya had no idea how to do that.

"We have so much to discuss," the little ensign continued as she led her down the corridor.  "In the meantime we should go to sickbay.  There are a number of patients in physical distress as well as mental," she explained.  "Are you proficient in biological medicine?"

"Then I think we need to sit down and go over the records of what happened in my absence... I should really speak to the Captain too regarding my status here.  How about over dinner?  It feels like a month since I last ate anything."

Leading the way out of the Brig, Ida inclined her head to the Brig Officer as they left - soon emerging in the main area of the Security Office. Present personnel looked up from what they were doing as they walked towards Ida's office. She wondered if Cinn would keep her as his Deputy after he was briefed about the mission records, but she kept the thought private.

"I agree," she said, keeping her tone professional and even, "we could sit down now, I suppose, yet I would venture a safe guess that you want to have a shower first. You might not be dead but you do smell like a corpse. I think you should make an appointment with the Captain first and be officially reinstated, and then you can debrief me about what has happened... unless the Captain fills you in first."

As they stepped into her office, Ida went to the farthest wall and crouched down by the storage compartments there. The three panorama-like computer panels on the wall behind her desk showed an orderly cascade of information from all manner of databases. Crew roster files and protocol listings were spread out along duty schedules and inventory lists. The few personal items in the office were of native Andorian origin, along with a few of her own drawings on the walls opposite the computer panels. One showed Wenn Cinn, and she had completely forgotten about the drawing he had made of him until the moment they stepped in. She did not make any comment on the oil paint portrait, however. Certainly not about to make things more awkward than they were for it hanging there.

"You will have to make an appointment with Ives through the Yeoman. Her name is Cameron Henshaw. The former one let the battles get to him, breaking down. The new Pinkskin seems confident enough. Also functions as some kind of morale officer," she said instead, and then addressed his suggestion that they would have a debriefing over dinner. "I do not think I have time for anything but a quick dinner, I am afraid, because there is an event planned in the evening. Some kind of show to raise crew morale in the holodeck. Everyone is invited that can be relieved from duty, and I... I suppose I could go, but that means I have to make up for time lost here in this office. In case you have not noticed, I am alone. Your successor was killed in action yesterday. In fact, two of your successors were, the most recent one while we tried to leave Theta Eridani IV."

She took out a large plastic box from the storage compartment, lifting it in her hands and turning to Cinn. It was rather heavy, but she was not the kind of woman to complain. "Here you are," she said as if she had said nothing of import about the deaths in Security and raked her white hair back from her face. "You could shower in the Phaser Range's locker rooms if you do not want to reacquire your rooms from the Quartermaster first. Up to you, Commander. I have little choice than to remain here right now, though."

Letting the insult regarding his odour pass for now, Cinn followed his former deputy into the office with an unspoken promise to get her back for it later.  It wasn't as if she was exaggerating, he could smell himself and it wasn't entirely pleasant.

Cinn couldn't help but notice the picture of himself on the wall in the security office but he said nothing.  Frankly he was a little embarrassed that he would be considered a worthy subject for someone who clearly had talent as an artist.  Death had a strange effect on those left behind he had noticed, it just wasn't usual for those who had died to come back and realise what their death had done.

Ida filled him in on the details of making an appointment with the Captain, the Andorian seemed to be satisfied with the appointment so she couldn't be all that bad at her job.  He shook his head at the news that two of the people who had taken his position as CSec had died in the time he had been away.  There were many things he needed to catch up on including why Ida had not been made head of department.  His mind began to try and piece things together, taking her personnel information, personality traits and applying them to the needs of the role.  Something must have happened, he had been training her to take over from him should the worst have happened but something else had intervened.

"Eating on the run goes with the job but you are right, I should wait until Jien has decided what to do with me before I start taking over again.  I guess old habits, like old Sec officers, die hard."

Taking the box from her he set it down on the floor, "I'll leave this here until I get my quarters reassigned, if you don't mind."

He opened the container and pulled out the clean uniform and boots, "I'll shower in the locker room, the sooner I get rid of this death-smell the better.  A show to raise crew morale?  Sounds interesting.  Got to say being alive has boosted my morale no end."

With that he took his change of clothes and headed into the locker room of the range.  Despite there being not much left of his uniform he was careful not to damage it further as he stripped off, thinking to keep the tattered remains as a reminder of his experiences with the Prophets.  He carefully folded the material and lay it to the side of his clean uniform.

Now naked, he stepped beneath the shower and turned it on.  The sonic waves pulsed across his body, breaking down the dirt and grime and sending it on its way.  A real water shower would have been infinitely more satisfying but right now he would take what he was given gladly.  Placing his hands against the wall he leaned forward and let the waves massage their way across his neck and back.  The valley of his spine between the muscle of his shoulders more pronounced as he dropped his chest into the hold on the wall. 

He didn't want to think but his mind wandered anyway, returning to the moment he blasted out of the ship and the moment he met the Prophets.  He sighed heavily; knowing that it would take time to come to terms with it all did not mean he was patient enough to wait for it to happen.  He stood up and finished showering, determined to get back to some semblance of normality and deal with everything else when he had time to do so.

Stepping out of the shower he retrieved his clean clothes and began to pull them on, it certainly felt better to have an intact uniform.  As he dressed he spoke, "Computer, put me through to Yeoman Henshaw."

He paused for the acknowledgement, "Yeoman Henshaw? Wenn Cinn.  I need to talk to the Captain about what is to become of me.  Can you arrange a meeting please?"

He continued the conversation as he returned to Ida's office, standing a little taller and cutting a much more impressive figure now he no longer looked, felt and smelled like a vagabond.

Hayden gripped Maya's hand without a second thought, chalking up the Ensign's slight awkwardness to any number of factors.  As much as O'Connor didn't think of herself in such terms, she knew she outranked the doctor, and that alone was enough to cause anxiety for some people.  There was also the fact this was their first meeting, and though Hayden had learned to cover over the years, O'Connor could relate to feeling nervous when meeting people for the first time.  When people learned she was a counselor, Hayden understood some people were going to make her a surrogate for whatever feelings they had toward others of her training, whether good or bad.  When she first graduated, this thought bothered her a great deal, and she made every effort to live down or up to others expectations.  Now, however, she simply accepted it, and did her best to work with the reality.

In this case, at least Maya was going out of her way to be friendly and complimentary of Hayden's role aboard, despite not knowing anything specific about her actual contributions.  This automatically endeared Maya to Hayden, who saw the effort as an indication of some degree of insecurity and a desire to be liked in return.  The source of such insecurities wasn't known to Hayden, and she was open to the possibility she had misread the Vulcan altogether.  Perhaps it was Hayden's own maternal counter-transference that was influencing how she reacted.  Either way, Hayden knew reciprocating Maya's kindness would only benefit both of them, and frankly, she wasn't in any mood to over-analyze herself or anyone else.

"Thank you for your kind words, Doctor.  My transfer was unexpected, but I ultimately want to be of service, and the Theurgy's crew are just as deserving as the crew of the Harbinger.  I also welcome and appreciate your service, and hope we can collaborate often."  Gesturing for the doctor to lead the way back to sickbay, she added, "To answer your question, I am a trained physician as well as a counselor, so feel free to put me to work."  She smiled wanly to let Maya know she regarded her warmly and to reinforce the notion she was not someone to fear.

[ USS Theurgy | Deck 07 | Corridor between Brig and Battle Sickbay | 0645 hrs.]

It wasn't until they passed a gold collared petty officer in the corridor that Maya realized she was still holding onto Hayden's hand.  On Vulcan, holding hands was a faux pas for the unwanted telepathic contact made the gesture even more intimate and invasive then on other worlds.  It was the Vulcan equivalent of putting one's arms around another and forcing one's tongue down their throat.  Maya wanted to be friendly, but that was too friendly.

Maya stopped her forward momentum and let go of Hayden, opening her long spidery fingers with the grace of a gesturing stage magician.   She turned to face the new counselor and clasped her hands together and gave a short nod that was almost a bow.  "My apologies," she said.  "It's just that our need for your services threatens to defy belief.  In the past few months we have suffered bodily violation, mental and emotional tampering, loss of dignity, and the loss of our shipmates.  You and your ship are the first true allies we have encountered.   Suspicion and paranoia has reinforced our isolation.  To say that morale is suffering would be an understatement.  I am capable of meditation.  Others on this ship are not so fortunate."

Maya drew a breath and stared down the corridor at the young enlisted men and women going to and fro.  She spoke again.  "In the past the procreative act was considered the most effective way to relieve stress and form a bond between individuals, but after the infection we contracted in the Mahéwa System and the influence of the entity known as 'Istar' the vast majority of the crew experience revulsion and self-loathing in response to the reproductive urge.  Such a reaction to the concept of sexual intercourse may be considered normal on my world, but this is counter to what is normal to a a group of healthy young men and women from their respective cultures.  Their ability to find release and form relationships has been taken from them."

She looked at Hayden again.  "I know that most of my people find many forms of recreation frivolous, but I believe in this case it is essential.  We need to have our survival instincts and our trust in one another restored.  With your training in psychology and group dynamics I'm sure you could suggest an activity for the crew that would provide both amusement and relaxation.  I cannot.  My upbringing was very traditional, and neither my experience nor my imagination in that area can be considered extensive.  The activities that I have suggested have been compared to viewing the solidification of pigment.  Perhaps you have more appealing options?"

---

OOC:  This scene takes place before the Prologue in Sickbay that happens over three hours later, and WAY before the Lohlunat  celebration in Chapter 2!  Perhaps Hayden helped Rihen plan it...

Holding hands with another woman wasn't a common experience for Hayden, and it did seem a bit odd Maya continued to keep her hand in O'Connor's as they walked together.  She would have expected Maya to be familiar with the custom of the handshake, at least through observation if not personal experience.  Hayden was just about to try to discreetly withdraw her hand when Maya appeared to realize what she had done and then apologized for it. Hayden offered a wry smile and shook her head as if to non-verbally say it wasn't anything to trouble herself over.

Hayden was surprised to hear the doctor relate her oversight to the trauma she and the crew had experienced, and more specifically the sexual related trauma.  O'Connor agreed wholeheartedly it was highly unlikely these experiences hadn't impacted the crew psychologically and interpersonally, and in fact, she and Jien Ives had discussed as much, but she had never thought of sexual activity as a primary source of morale in so many words.  She found it particularly interesting that Maya was speaking in such terms because as Maya had already referenced, the Vulcan approach to sexuality was in many ways one of the most repressive.

Of course, the clinician within Hayden viewed the sexual violations the crew had endured as more about a violation of trust than about sex itself.  Sexual dysfunction could certainly be a symptom of the violation of that trust, but frankly, given what the crew was facing, she was less concerned about whether the crew was having sex and more concerned about how they were working together as a team.  Sexual attraction was just one end of the social spectrum.

Hayden found herself wondering what Maya had experienced during the Niga episode, but O'Connor knew it wasn't the time or place to ask.  She had mentioned using meditation to cope, and that served as a reminder to Hayden that just because as a Vulcan Maya experienced things differently than others, it didn't mean she wasn't affected by it.  Turning her attention to the doctor's words, Hayden offered, "Perhaps a simple crew party is in order..."

"I agree," Maya nodded.  "Unfortunately all of my attempts to plan crew festivities have met with failure.  Only three people attended my lecture on comparative Neolithic cultures amongst Federation species.  My attempt to form a Hammond organ appreciation society was a failure, and Chief O'Connor described my poetry reading idea as 'the most boring undertaking short of watching paint dry.'  After all of these setbacks, I am forced to admit that I seem to know very little about the concept of 'fun,'" she concluded using air quotes when she said the word 'fun.'

She looked away.  "I am forced to admit that I am not very popular," she admitted.   "In Starfleet Medical, I was known as the 'Uncanny Valley Girl'.   Conversing with me has been compared to conversing with the Tamarians, and other Vulcans are under the impression that I myself am in need of psychiatric therapy.  I am incapable of forming connections with my shipmates and encouraging them to reaffirm their bonds with one another."  Maya held her hands in front of her and looked down at the deck, the perfect picture of stoic melancholy and dignified perseverance. 

---

OOC:  This scene takes place before the sickbay prologue where Maya makes a similar confession to Rihen Neyah.  I'm assuming Hayden and Rihen come plan the Lohlunat  festival in chapter two off stage later but Hayden's involvement in the Lohlunat  festival is up to The Counselor.