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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: Two sides, same coin [Day 03 | 0930]
Last post by Dumedion -The stones had scattered everywhere; they blended into the carpet, bounced off the angled walls and furniture, then ricocheted off each other like marbles in an unpredictable display of chaos physics. Hauq closed his eyes and took a deep breath, jaw muscles tensed to control his annoyance. It was a simple toss, not even a meter; he should have just handed it over.
An apology formed on his lips, silenced as she spoke.
Her laugh somehow made it worse, pleasant as it was to hear; it served as a stark reminder of the differences between them – Enyd seemed to thrive in chaos, laughing off the consequential circumstances of what reactive causality deemed to reward her with – while Hauq was a creature of control and order whom thrived on repetitive function and predictable behavior by default.
He wasn’t sure he agreed with her musing; the Empire had changed and adapted much over the generations since its inception – but he held his council for her to continue, taking no umbrage at her words. A deep scowl pulled at the corners of Hauq’s mouth at her prophesied death at the edge of a Klingon blade, however; while that very well might come to pass, there would be no rest or respite for the one responsible – he would see to that personally.
They shared in the quiet moment that followed; two souls surrounded by a sea of red rubies. When her eyes finally met his, Hauq held her gaze evenly – right up to the moment when he nearly interrupted her with a grunt of admonishment for her apparent naivety. The diplomat continued however, appeasing him without knowing it with the follow up: optimistic pragmatism – a viewpoint he could stand behind, if not wholly agree with – but he let the matter lie.
The reason he had been sent – the obligation set by Martok – had been accomplished; there was no reason to engage in a socio-political debate on their current straits. Hauq had to admit, with a wry mental grin, that he would likely be easily outclassed in such an arena; he was a warrior, not a diplomat and certainly no politician. Even if she created more chaos at every turn, with every encounter, there was no denying her ability to find a way out of it.
The wink and corresponding comment earned a grunt of laughter. “Don’t do me any favors,” the Colonel managed to say, while his attention was directed elsewhere for the briefest of seconds.
That’s all it took.
What followed was a series of unfortunate events; Hauq detected a blur of motion out of his peripheral vision as the woman stood suddenly – his body tensed on instinct, attention snapped to the source – in the next instant, she had launched herself at him. Before his brain could fully process what had happened, the Colonel was in motion; arms and hands up and braced for action: yet he wasn’t anywhere near fast enough:
The diplomat’s face slammed into his chest with a dull smack, then rebounded as his arms purchased nothing but air; the momentum propelled him forward, then back, as his feet lost all traction. Suddenly airborne, Hauq’s eyes widened with confusion as he witnessed his own legs pinwheeling – the entire orientation of the room tilting up and backward. His back and head hit something solid – then crashed through whatever it was – and then he was on the floor, listening to yet more rocks scatter about the room. In the end, Enyd lay across his chest, somehow perpendicular to how he landed. The chair he had been sitting in was broken apart, strewn on its side.
The Klingon's head rose a fraction with a grunt of effort, voice devoid of amusement. “Your prophecy is fulfilled; my head aches. Qapla',” he grumbled, then propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you injured?”
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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epilogue: Sit Rep After Hell [ Day 03 | 2130 ]
Last post by Eden -[Show/Hide]
Cal heard her come in. A moment later, she was crossing the room. The former fighter pilot had just enough time to shift his weight and place his PADD on the maintenance crate behind him before her arms came around him in a warm embrace.
He didn't move. Cal's free hand found her shoulder blade and he held still, letting her have the moment because he could tell she needed it. He needed it too. In the short time after his injury and promotion, Cal had memorized the list of the dead and knew her name was not on it. Still, he felt a deep relief when he finally laid eyes upon her and in doing so verified her omission from the casualty report beyond a shadow of the doubt.
She went to the beds this morning. She looked.
He filed that away somewhere it would not be easily reached and said nothing, because she hadn't either, and that was its own kind of answer.
When Enyd finally pulled back, he watched her face go from alarm to something more neutral and measured.
"For what it's worth," she said, dry as Montana dust, "chicks absolutely dig a man with a cane. Especially if there's a sword in it." She tilted her head. "Is there a sword in it?"
"That," he began to say, voice slightly hoarse but evenly measured, "is a deeply personal question, Lieutenant."
Cal met her gaze with, betraying nothing as to the thoughts behind his piercing blue eyes. "However, I am more offended that you even needed to ask."
It was not often one had the unique opportunity to use a cane on-duty. For someone as eccentric and prone to extravagance as Cal, the answer to that question was obvious. However, given the present company, he did not reply in the suggestive manner he might normally have done.
She is still holding my wrist.
He had known since she pulled back but had no reason to shift and adjust from her grip. It was comforting. Confirming in a way physically what his eyes already done. She was alive and well.
"Sorry." The smile she gave him was small and genuine and slightly undermined by the fact that her eyes were still too bright. "Forgot myself. We can catch up more later."
"You didn't forget yourself," he said, simply. "You found it."
He let that sit for a quiet moment before offering a playful wink. Then he turned toward the table, adjusted his grip on the cane, and reached for his PADD. While he had the opportunity to sit, he continued to stand as he listened to the various department heads give their reports. He stood not to put himself on the periphery of the meeting and diminish his importance, but because he refused to be defined by his injury. Standing was a quiet act of protest against life's circumstances and a reminder to himself that he would not allow this injury to dictate his future.
24
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epilogue: Sit Rep After Hell [ Day 03 | 2130 ]
Last post by joshs1000 -[Show/Hide]
Lok arrived last to the conference room, he had to come the farthest after all, but he was also just exhausted; it was etched on his furred face, eyes resting heavy, his fur unkept, ears drooped, the past few days had been a lot. The last thing he needed was to go over what he already told and wrote down for Commander Cross earlier in the day, but in typical fashion for The Pips they wanted to talk about it in a comfy conference room. Just do the work and get it done, was his thoughts on the whole thing, but perhaps a bit of inter-department communication was helpful.
He sat heavily in one of the chairs and set a device as well as a parts and tools on the polished table. A cabin air resequencer valve controller, for one of the Valkyries, a standard piece of Starfleet tech that hadn’t changed in nearly a century, its robust simple design utilized solid state transtators as opposed to isolinear systems. Good and solid, something that Lok could fix with his eyes closed, which based on his level of fatigue was a real possibility, but more importantly it would keep him mentally occupied enough to not fall asleep during the meeting. As everyone got settled and started speaking, Lok brought the controller to him, inspecting it for obvious damage. The main board was in good shape as was the capacitor, but the transtators and some of their ports were pretty banged up. Occasionally glancing up to show he was somewhat listening, he went to work removing the transtators and setting them neatly in a row to the side. With that done he inspected the ports again, four out of the twelve were damaged, the rest were fine but a bit sooted up.
The meeting went on with stuff that generally didn’t have much to do with him or his department, not that he ignored it, but he only mentally noted any key bits that might be important for later. When the Chief Engineer started speaking though he did give his full attention, a little annoyed that Frank was discussing matters that didn’t really fall under his purview, however it did dawn on Lok that he didn’t know exactly who he reported to specifically, maybe it was the Chief Engineer. Once Frank was finished, Lok went back to his tinkering while the others reported on their departments. Finally it was his turn, some of it would be redundant, but he didn’t really care, just whatever finished this faster and got him back down and working before he fell asleep.
“Chief Lok, Fighter Bay,” he began as he picked up a PADD and cleared his throat, “as Commander Arnold stated, the flight deck is a bit of a mess right now, my guys are taking care of it. So let’s run down what we got.”
“Structural Damage and Operations: the flight deck itself is in good shape, just some scratches, a few dents, and light blast damage, we’ve swept the deck so it can be used for flight ops but with the facilities damage we have sustained in the hangar, launch and recovery will be slow. As you probably know by now, during the action with the Romulan carrier, a damaged piece of ordnance self activated and detonated on the starboard side of the hangar, the explosion and fire has completely destroyed the operations office and assembly room. EPS damage in the area also has rendered all facilities on that side of the hangar non-operational for the time being. Also rendered non-operational due to the fire was the flight deck magazine, its safety systems did their job and kept the ordnance from detonating, once the fire was taken care of we moved the ordnance to the primary torpedo magazine. Until the magazine’s safety systems can be repaired we have grouped some light ready use munitions into a bomb park on the deck, protected by a series of portable forcefields that can contain any accidental explosions of the ordnance. So in the event we need to launch any sorties the fighters will have a near full weapons loadout minus heavy torpedoes.”
He glanced around in case there were any immediate questions then continued.
“Next, Spacecraft: currently there are eight fully repaired and ready to go fighters on the deck, I have two set up on alert, the rest are parked on the centerline while we use the regular parking spots for repair work. There are a further two fighters that are flight capable but have some systems damage. Now as for the wrecks that Commander Arnold mentioned, for the moment, those are being kept aboard to be evaluated and salvaged or used for parts, I think we can put together six airframes into working spacecraft again, whatever is left can be stored for parts or used as matter for the replicators. I don’t recommend dumping anything into space until it has been thoroughly evaluated. Further it should be noted that with the assembly room destroyed, my guys do not have an industrial replicator for parts and will need to share with the Engineering Department, so work will be hindered due to that.”
“Ok now onto Personnel: based on the crew manifest I have, the deck crew is at roughly fifty percent strength after taking into account the casualties of the previous day. All division heads are acting and everyone is having to handle multiple duties…” he paused for a moment as he pondered how best to broach the next topic, “based on what I’ve seen, overwork and fatigue are becoming a real problem among the deck crews even before our recent losses; it is causing problems in efficiently, safety, and most importantly morale. If proper relief is not given, for the sake of keeping something going down there I’ll need to cut operations by half.”
“And that’s pretty much it,” he leaned back in his chair as he went silent.
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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: The curious case of Humpty Dumpty [Day 03 | 2330 hrs]
Last post by Ellen Fitz -"They are," Hirek agreed, looking down at himself with the expression of a man who has accepted an unfortunate reality, "a precise shade of something I have had occasion to irrigate from living tissue and would strongly prefer not to be reminded of while wearing." He paused. "Burn them. I endorse this entirely."
He moved to the head nurse instruction with a single nod that conveyed both comprehension and mild personal reservation.
"I will note that my interpersonal skills are — functional, in the way that a tool with a hairline fracture is functional. Adequate to purpose under normal conditions." He considered this characterization. "A recently acquired...friend of mine, once told me that I should put on my big boy panties and play well with others." His mouth curved. "I have found this framework more applicable than I would have predicted. When the situation warrants, I am capable of deploying it."
He turned to the screen.
The double helix rotated slowly. He leaned in, cataloguing — the Romulan strand first, his own, familiar enough in the abstract though he'd never had particular cause to study it at this resolution. Then the human strand, and the matched pair of genes sitting in both sequences like two people who had arrived at a party from opposite ends of the city and found themselves standing next to each other at the drinks table.
He noted the gender of the donor. He was quiet for a moment.
"Ah," Hirek said.
It was a small sound, but it carried the weight of a man rapidly running probability calculations and arriving at a conclusion he found simultaneously unsurprising and cosmically ill-mannered. The gods of his islands had always had a pronounced sense of humor. He had learned to recognize their fingerprints. He had a suspicion on who it might because it would be just his luck, his family's luck in fact, if it was who he now presumed it to be.
He straightened. "There are, as you note, not many Romulan donors aboard in any condition to be useful. I will make the verification a priority." He turned from the screen and looked at Leux directly. "The case you mentioned. Tell me about it."
26
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: Two sides, same coin [Day 03 | 0930]
Last post by Ellen Fitz -She caught the pouch. The tie did not survive the catch.
Bloodstones — deep crimson, shot through with threads of darker red, each one polished to a dull gleam — cascaded across her lap, bounced off the chair's edge, and scattered across the floor in every direction with the cheerful indifference of objects that have never once been asked their opinion on the matter.
Enyd looked down at her lap. Then at the floor. Then at the remaining stones still rolling in lazy arcs toward the far corners of the room. The laugh came from somewhere genuine.
"How fitting," she said, when she'd recovered enough to say anything at all. "Absolutely fitting for the times we're living in." She gestured broadly at the scattered carnage. "Here's a boon — congratulations, you've earned it — and here it goes, everywhere but where you want it." She pressed her lips together, shoulders still shaking faintly, and looked at the stones nearest her feet without yet moving to collect them.
The laughter settled. Something quieter replaced it.
"There's a comfort in predictability," she said, almost to herself. Her eyes tracked one stone that had come to rest against the leg of her desk. "I don't mean that as an insult — I want to be clear about that." She looked at Hauq directly. "Knowing that the Klingons will always be precisely what they are. That you won't wake up one morning and find the Empire has decided to become something unrecognizable in the night." Something honest moved across her face. "Even knowing that at some point, probably more than once, I'm going to do something that earns me a Klingon dagger at my throat—" she said it with the matter-of-fact tone of a woman reading from a fairly reliable forecast, "—there's something steadying about that certainty. The shape of it is known. You can work with a known shape."
She reached over and held out the ruined pouch toward the desk. Several promptly fell out and rolled off the edge and joined their companions on the floor.
Enyd stared at them. A short, undignified snort escaped her.
"Naturally." She set the empty pouch down. "Naturally."
She leaned back and let her eyes move across the scattered stones — across the floor, her chair, the desk, one that had somehow made it nearly to the door — and when she spoke again, her voice had shed the humor without losing its ease.
"I share your skepticism. About governments. About all of them, the Federation included — perhaps the Federation most of all, because I know it well enough to know exactly where the rot tends to grow." Her thumb ran along the rim of her water glass. "But the nature of this vocation is holding two things at once. The reality that every civilization in the history of the universe has been built by fallible creatures who will, given sufficient time and pressure, fail." She lifted her eyes to his. "And the reality that in the full sweep of that same history, there have always been exceptions. Individuals, moments, choices that bent the trajectory of something toward better than it had any statistical right to be." She leaned forward and placed the glass carefully on the desk amid the remaining stones. "I'd like to work toward ensuring that everyone involved has every opportunity available to be that exception." The pause was carried by her eyes dropping briefly to the scattered bloodstones. "While preparing, thoroughly and without sentimentality, for the likelihood that they won't be."
She studied the stones a moment longer.
"Tell Martok the back channel goes both ways. Whatever door he's leaving open on his end — the same door stands open on ours." The ghost of something animated moved back into her expression. "Besides." She shot Hauq the wink — brief, direct, entirely unrepentant. "If it means I get more opportunities to be a headache for you specifically, I consider that incentive enough to maintain the relationship."
She pushed to her feet, already angling toward the nearest cluster of bloodstones on the floor. Her boot found one first. The stone rolled. Physics, entirely indifferent to rank, vocation, or diplomatic consequence, completed the rest. Enyd's arms went out — a reflex, useless — and she went forward with the committed velocity of someone who has already lost the argument with gravity, directly toward Hauq.
27
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: The curious case of Humpty Dumpty [Day 03 | 2330 hrs]
Last post by Dumedion -[Show/Hide]
Arven turned to glance over his shoulder at the Romulan – Perek? Jihjek? – whatever his name was, after a reasonable amount of time had passed to ensure the man had at least put some pants on. If the man had indeed designed the torture device, that clearly spoke of useful competence; Arven chose to dump the emotional attachment described as it struck too close to home with his own history with Cardassians. Above all, it was the way he offered to help that did it, really; there was a simple confidence in the Romulan’s tone that grabbed the Doctor’s attention. Unfortunately, upon registering the yellow/greenish PJ's, (the color reminded Leux of the gooey mucus he'd irrigated out of one of the pilots not long ago, or – more accurately – the runny bowel movements of a human newborn), Arven couldn’t quite focus on much else for a moment.
“Note to self, burn those,” Arven deadpanned, "every single one, then pick a new color," then cleared his throat to compose himself before returning his attention back to the matter at hand. “No one is stopping you from getting your hands dirty – just find the head nurse for the shift and do what they tell you, if you want to help with the day-to-day. As it happens, I have a case I believe your expertise could prove useful. But first,” he gestured to the screens with a hand and made room for the Romulan to approach.
“You might not be aware, but the number of Romulans currently on board have dwindled; with our replicators damaged, our ability to synthesize plasma is limited until repairs can be made – hence my search for a suitable blood donor. Unfortunately, you seem to have a more rare type,” Arven shrugged, “so try not to let anyone poke holes in you for the next week. Anyway, by sheer luck, or…fate, I don’t know, I found this.”
Leux nodded to the screens, which displayed two sets of DNA in a rotating double helix; one belonged to the Romulan, and the other was human – minus a pair of identical genes that matched perfectly in both strands.
“It appears you have a long lost relation on board; probably five or six generations removed, I’d guess,” Leux shrugged again.
“Curious, isnt it,” he folded his arms, thinking. Cross-species hybridization was hardly new, yet was still exceptionally rare – statistically speaking. “By all means, feel free to cross-check the analysis if you like. I’d rather be safe than sorry before I give the other party the news.”
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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epilogue: They That Shed Their Blood [Day 03 | 1800 ]
Last post by Griff -[Show/Hide]
Alistair, true to form, was late. Very late, in fact. After returning from the Hobus mission, he had been everywhere and nowhere, handling countless tasks ranging from the tedious to the apocalyptic, and sheer exhaustion was growing more and more insistent. He completely lost track of the time as a result, and so only just entered the arboretum halfway through the ceremony. He stood alongside the rest of the crowd, watching and listening, though he barely registered most of it. Alistair was still numb after Hobus.
Enyd being alive helped warm him, but their all too brief exchange wasn't enough. Even standing with his crewmates, even hearing the president welcome them back, Alistair couldn't help but feel a weight on his shoulders, grim and penetrating. Isolating. The thought of returning to his quarters alone was deeply unsettling.
One thing, however, caught Alistair's eye as Commander Stark said her piece. Behind her, on the wall, was not just a list of names, but a list of starships, their artistically outlined shapes visible next to them.
USS Harbinger NCC-67890
USS Endeavour NCC-71805
USS Resolve NCC-91985
USS Bellerophon NCC-74705
USS Eclipse NCC-73888
The last one hit like a gut punch. Alistair hadn't asked anyone to put the name up there. He hadn't even talked about it since returning to 2381, save for a murmured confession to Enyd in the dark, protected by their blanket fortress. Still, somebody had read the report. Put it up there.
The weight grew. Alistair left as soon as he politely could, talking to no-one.
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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: Two sides, same coin [Day 03 | 0930]
Last post by Dumedion -He watched her the way a man might sit and ponder the meaning behind an artist’s choice of color, or brush stroke; attention widened to encompass the entire work – fascinated yet detached. The little details still mattered: the way her hair fell slowly at the mercy of gravity and the micro-shifts in her posture – the way her tone shifted, once the brief internal debate had been concluded – the way weariness still pulled at the corners of her eyes and mouth, still threatened to drag her limbs down, and the way she still refused to yield.
Hauq was a man whose occupation demanded a higher level of observation; much like his fists, or blade, or choice of disruptor – he had long ago honed it into a weapon.
The chair was slightly smaller than required, forcing him to sit upright, arms draped over the rests as if he were a monarch of old, before the time of Kahless; when Madsen lounged, the Colonel’s posture remained the same – mostly because he didn’t fully trust the furniture’s architecture. The Federation seemed to enjoy building cushy, elegant things to mask their functionality; the Theurgy itself was a fine example of that – a ship built to rival any warship in the quadrant alone – yet it was riddled with fine embellishment and fanciful fillagree.
Madsen drank, then set about answering the question he’d asked.
He offered no response initially, only listened with rapt attentiveness. As humans were wont to do, the diplomat opted to take the ‘long route’ in her reply; Hauq didn’t begrudge her. He wanted to understand. Martok had requested this from him. The tale held the familiar sting of loss, something that even strangers shared if given enough time to converse. Anyone who lived long enough lost someone they loved. Madsen had the privilege of loving someone deeply – truly deeply – before that loves tragic end; yet Hauq felt no sympathy for that end. He felt bewildered that she would let such a thing – such an honorable sacrifice, such a courageous end for one so beloved – tear her down and nearly destroy her.
Such a man, Cardassian or no, deserved to live forever in her memory as an example of what love truly was: powerful, consuming, a passion that drove all sentient creatures to extreme, irrational behavior – yet fleeting, and always, regardless of how the end comes, tragic and painful.
Yet she found a way back, in the fires of Vulcan; Hauq would have recommended the Fire Wastes near the equatorial zone of Qo’noS, if given the chance, but they hardly knew each other then.
Fire is fire, he shrugged mentally.
The meaning behind the wink was understood, yet the way she categorized his ‘name’ for her was not; The Storm without End was a title, not a name – but he supposed that was merely semantics. Madsen had earned it by being exactly that: a seemingly never ending headache for Martok while the Theurgy had orbited the home-world; by design, or fate, or as some punishment for past sins, Hauq and his warriors had been left to clean up her mess. It wasn’t a term of endearment, nor was it an insult; it simply was who she was, in his eyes at least.
Madsen’s posture shifted again, into something more akin to seriousness. Hauq leaned in, resting his chin on the knuckles of his entwinned fingers, elbows resting on his knees while she counted off her points. He had expected nothing less, showing neither admonishment nor surprise at her words. His nose wrinkled at the mention of the so-called Romulan Coalition – which was just another turn of phrase for what would eventually become another Romulan blunder at government, given time – but he held his tongue. Madsen continued; her stance on the Federation president’s actions earned a barely perceptible shrug, followed with an equally brief nod of agreement.
At the end, Hauq blinked slowly; all of it, the entire speech, could be summed up in a simple answer: Madsen was playing the long game without knowing how long that game was going to last, with the hope that putting out one fire would prevent the entire quadrant from burning.
The colonel spread his hands after a moment as he leaned back slightly, then mimicked her counting digits as he spoke:
One.
“We are Klingon. We will do as we have always done – with or without you. Martok will face many new challenges from the Council; enemies will gather, more blood will be shed, but in the end, the strongest will prevail.”
Two.
“There was plenty of satisfaction to be had from mauling the Romulans; we have drunk and bellowed our songs to the stars and gorged ourselves on glory. Yet we are not fools, nor are we blind; Romulans will never change – no more than humans, or Cardassians, or those genetically forged creatures that call themselves Jem’Hadar. In a decade, or a century, or a millennium, this…Coalition…will implode, or turn rancid, or be perverted into the oppressive monstrosity we just spent countless lives burning from the stars. We will be watching, and waiting, and we will not ask for permission to do what must be done.”
Three.
“Your President is a fool – on that we can agree. I can only hope the Chancellor can maintain some semblance of self-control while they speak, otherwise we may part on far less friendlier terms. I cannot control him anymore than you can control her – nor can I influence the other members of the Council – but I can keep the back-channels open, for as long as possible, should the worst come to pass.”
Hauq nodded to her.
“The screening as already begun. It will continue – likely for the entirety of our lives. Where they are discovered, will be shared; we will burn them out wherever they choose to hide, given time.”
He stood then, to pull a pouch from his belt at the small of his back.
“Your words will reach the Chancellor’s ears. To that end, he wished me to bring this; a token of personal gratitude – unofficially, by Martok himself,” he tossed the burlap sack to her. “Bloodstones. Enough for every member of your crew. We can no longer guarantee your safety in Imperial space, you see; this…situation, will reach the ears of the Council, and they will twist the facts to serve their own ends. Some will take matters into their own hands, some will not. What matters is this: should the need be great, any of you that bare one of these stones will be granted amnesty and asylum within the House of Martok, without question.”
The Colonel smirked briefly.
“The man takes life debts quite seriously.”
30
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: EPI S: The curious case of Humpty Dumpty [Day 03 | 1900 hrs]
Last post by Ellen Fitz -The hand moved before he was fully awake.
It found the device at his sternum and wrenched — or tried to. His fingers closed on it, knuckles whitening, and for three seconds he was not in sickbay at all but in a chair in the sub-levels of the Citadel with something very like this pressed against his chest by a man whose name he had taken pains to memorize for later use. The smell of his own scorched skin. The particular quality of silence that Tal'Shiar interrogation rooms were designed to produce, sound-dampened so that nothing you did in them carried anywhere useful.
Then Leux said something, and the smell went away.
Hirek released the device. Laid his hand flat on his sternum instead, feeling his own heartbeat, methodical and unimpressed with the last thirty seconds. He looked at the ceiling of sickbay for a moment, then at Leux.
"My apologies." His voice was rougher than he'd have preferred. "Reflex."
He looked down at the device properly now — the housing, the contact points, the particular geometry of the emitter array — and something moved across his expression that wasn't quite amusement and wasn't quite the other thing.
"A vel'drath stimulator." He said it the way a man identifies handwriting he recognizes as his own on a document he didn't write. "The design is mine. Or was, originally." He sighed, shaking his head. "I developed the prototype approximately eleven years ago, after a close acquaintance with a Breen energy dampener during what I can only describe as an inadvisable diplomatic encounter. The experience left my cardiac and peripheral nerve function in a state that my own people's medicine addressed with considerably less elegance than I thought the problem deserved." The corner of his mouth moved. "I was bedridden. I had time to think. The device I eventually built was intended to support heart and nerve function during recovery from acute systemic trauma — a tool for healing, with several secondary applications I found personally interesting."
He looked back at the ceiling.
"I am not surprised the Tal'Shiar adapted it. They have been attempting to recruit me since before I had anything worth recruiting. Every refusal cost someone I cared about something they could not afford to lose. It became something of a motivating factor in my decision to kill as many of their operatives as opportunity permitted. Which is what led me here." He stopped, realizing the medicine the doctor had given him and loosened his tongue far more than normal and he'd just said more to this man of acquaintance of five minutes than he normally said to better "friends." "Forgive me." He said it without particular self-flagellation, the way a man corrects a navigational error. "You are the chief medical officer of a department that is, from what I understand, currently held together with whatever the Theurgy equivalent of twine and optimism is. My history with the Tal'Shiar is not a pressing concern in your professional hierarchy."
He sat up slowly, accepting the offered pyjamas with a glance that suggested he found them faintly absurd but was willing to concede the point. He pulled them on without drama.
"I can help." He said it simply, as a fact being reported rather than an offer requiring consideration. "I hold cross-training in field medicine and biochemical trauma response — useful if not formally credentialed by Federation standards. The science department has granted me latitude to pursue certain experiments, but the scheduling is flexible." He settled the collar with one hand. "I cannot promise consistency, but I can promise competence, and I suspect at the moment one of those is more available in your department than the other."
He raised an eyebrow at whatever Leux had said next — the offer, the question, the thing Hirek hadn't quite caught in the residue of adrenaline still working its way out of his system.
"Proceed," he said. "I have always been a curious sort. It is, in fact, at the core of most of my documented problems."