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Topic: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath (Read 140 times) previous topic - next topic

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SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
"CORRECTIONAL AFTERMATH"

STARDATE 57558.63
MARCH 11, 2381
0900 HRS.

[ Vigenary Model I-9 Surgical Android | Main Sickbay | USS Theurgy ] Attn: All Corrected
[Show/Hide]
A new day, apparently, and the ship she now served on had been split into three parts. It was a strange development which she'd become aware a couple of minutes ago. Of course, V-Nine did not sleep, so she had been able to provide medical care for the wounded since she came aboard the Theurgy, with neither rest nor breaks. Still, she had not begun her real assignment. The task given to her by her creators on the Versant. She was supposed to aid those abducted by her makers in becoming themselves again, the Correction Program merely having been a facade for genome studies to support the Scion Directive.

So, when she finished her last patient, having cleared him to be moved to the Recovery Ward - with the astute second opinion given by one of the medical officers on duty, of course - she stepped towards the computer console closest to her, namely the one for the Head Nurse.

"Excuse me, may I be able to send a message to a few crewmembers aboard this ship, please?" she asked a young man that was close by, one whom had helped her on a few occasions through the night.

"Um, sure, I mean. I don't see any harm in that. Did the new Chief Medical Officer speak with you yet?"

"I am afraid not. Doctor Tyre has likely slept, and he's been in a Senior Staff meeting this morning, but I will make myself available to him at his earliest convenience. In the meantime, could you please show me how to send a message?" she asked, her lens zooming after shifting to that of the LCARS display in front of her. Such an antiquated system, but it was what she had available. Between actually managing to preform the reversal surgeries on the patients and just contacting them, the latter was definitely easier. The unvoiced frustration about the available medical facilities may have abated, but her upgrade made it impossible to dismiss the observation.

Soon enough, the message was sent to all the affected abductees.

FROM: V-Nine, Vigenary Model I-9 Surgical Android
SUBJECT: Scheduling Reversal Surgery
MESSAGE:

Dear former abductees on the Versant,

The amount of wounded in this ships medical bays has abated, which opens up for reversal surgery, just like Sclergyn qi Versant tasked me to preform at the earliest possibility for all those interested in retaining your original physiology. Before leaving the Versant, your Ship A.I. interface was able to download the majority of the Correction Journals from the Savi Archive. Unfortunately, she was unable to secure those that the Ante xenobilogists had failed to put on file at that time. This means that some of the journals may be lost, and I will be unable to reverse your physiology to that which you had before you were abducted.

Those who do have their journal aboard, however, may contact me as soon as you like to arrange for reversal surgery.

Please also bear in mind that for those who's journals were lost, I will also be able to preform corrective surgery on your appearance, so that while you may still retain your current genome, you will at least appear like you did before the abduction. It may be a small comfort, but it is the best I will be able to do given the medical facilities I have available.

Please reply if you wish reversal surgery to be preformed, so that I may be able to tell you whether or not your journal was uploaded to my memory banks. In fact, please contact me even if you wish to remain as you are, so that I know you have recieved this message.

I also would like to add that I greatly appreciate this initial time aboard your ship, and that I look forward to speaking with you further about your medical needs.

V-Nine

Reading it, she wondered why she had added such a... personal tone to it. Likely the upgrade again, generating strange quirks to her runtime. She would have to run another self-diagnostic, even if she suspected it would yield the same results as it had every other time.

"There, sent," she said to the male nurse at her side, her tone pleasant and grateful. "Thank you!"

"You're quite welcome," said the man, for some reason amused by her demeanour. V-Nine had no idea what was so funny about an android expressing gratitude, especially since she'd come to mimic the conversational tonality of the organics around her.


OOC: All with Corrected characters, please reply to this post in any fashion you like, be it via a message back or coming to Sickbay to talk to V-Nine. As for Hi'Jak, a security officer would be relaying the message to him in the brig. Looking forward to your replies!

Attn: @BZ @Fife @steelphoenix @Masorin @Triage @SummerDawn @Griff @Numen @Stegro88 @FollowTomorrow @Brutus
  • Last Edit: May 14, 2019, 08:08:45 PM by Auctor Lucan

  • Numen
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Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #1
[Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai|Lt. Praise Quarters| Deck 8 | USS Theurgy | Aldea Shipyards]
[Show/Hide]
Att: @BZ @Auctor Lucan 


The padd chimed as Khorin was replicating his second cup of Raktajino, this time without sugar. He had replicated six different drinks and twenty-five different types of pastries before succumbing to the evident. His taste buds no longer tolerated sweetness. Or at least not as much as he had fancied. So he had to give in to the plain facts and admit that he had to get used to a 100 percent Klingon diet. Or almost. So now he was leaning on the workstation, shirtless, with the cup in one hand and a tray containing enough bacon and scrambled eggs to plug the arteries of two-thirds of the crew. At Zeph's request he had also replicated a small toast of rye bread, because she had told him that he needed some fiber in his diet. Khorin had complied. In his own way.

Thought about the betazoid etched a smile in his face. At this time she wasn't around, as she was taking care of her morning ablutions on the other side of the bedroom door. Even though he couldn't see her, he felt her joyful mind resonating in his. The Klingon smiled sideways, even wider, delighted at how... normal everything seemed. Even though everything was new and exciting.

The padd whistled again, somewhere, reminding him that he had an unread message. Khorin rose slightly, holding his cup and then took a sip. His surroundings were, to say the least, chaotic. They had dismantled part of the cardboard castle to allow access to the replicator and bedroom door, but most of the boxes (at least those which contained his belongings) were still stacked everywhere and covered almost the whole floor. They had dematerialized all the empty boxes, which had made up most of the castle's structure. Even so, it wouldn't be easy to find the padd.

Khorin sipped his drinkagain and began to rummage through the crates, but every time he thought he had found the source of the sound, the sound came back... from a entirely different place. After several minutes of fruitless searching and an empty cup, frustration began to grow in him. He had found a Padd, sure. Zephyr's Padd. He had muted the device, without looking at the message's sender, much less its contents, and then deposited it over the console. He had no interest in finding out who was sending her a memo. He respected her privacy after all.

His Padd, however, was nowhere near him. And the device seemed to have fallen into a stubborn silence and no longer rang. Khorin filled his mouth with a mixture of eggs and bacon to silence the scream of frustration that threatened to leave his lips. After several minutes, three boxes scattered on the floor and a gratuitous punch to one of the wallplates, he finally found what he was looking for. "Qapla'!" he cheered himself.

As he kept gobbling up the one and a half kilo of protein that constituted his breakfast (using the mini toast to shove it), Khorin read the message. In spite of himself, the Klingon noticed his jaw tightening and frustration and anger grew back inside him, nearly out of control. After all, he was at the limit of the effect of the shot to control his chemical inbalance. Without thinking too much about what he was doing, he tapped the screen and wrote a short answer, which he sent as soon as it was finished.


Quote
From: Douglas, Khorin, Lt.JG.
To: V-Nine, Vigenary Model I-9 Surgical Android
Subject: RE: Scheduling Reversal Surgery NO WAY, NO, NADA, NIET

I have no interest in reversing the only good thing those bulbheads did.
Short answer.
NO

Salutations
Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai


Satisfied, the pilot threw the padd to the sofa and swallowed up what was left of his breakfast, smiling pleased with himself. To complete the work and reward himself for his keen reply, he decided to replicate a third cup of Raktajino, along with a triple-sugared doughnut covered in pink icing and sprincles.

He regretted it at the first bite.

The sweetened delight tasted like sand in his mouth. Unpleasant as sucking soil. Or like something dry that that had been out in the open for three weeks, under a merciless sun. He spat it.

With a sigh, he threw himself on the couch and picked up the padd again, and then reticently he wrote a second answer.

Quote
From: Douglas, Khorin, Lt.JG.
To: V-Nine, Vigenary Model I-9 Surgical Android
Subject: RE: RE: Scheduling Reversal Surgery NO WAY, NO, NADA, NIET Well, maybe...

Is there any chance that my taste buds can stop loathing sweets?

Salutations
Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai

P.S. I don't intend to apologize.


Khorin sighed loudly. He MUST apologize. At some point.
  • Last Edit: May 15, 2019, 12:32:11 AM by Numen

Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #2
[ Nathaniel Isley | Fighter Pilot Bay | USS Theurgy ]

Silence was a precious commodity, ever since the Versant. Nathaniel had taken to savoring it when he could, trying to identify all of the weird, powerful things he was feeling. So he was in the fighter bay hanger on his break, watching all of the people around him go about their work as if nothing had ever changed. Maybe for them, nothing had changed. Maybe for them, being in the fighter bay was just another day at work, a return to normalcy. To Nathaniel, he was watching everything as if he had fallen into some brand new dimension. He knew where everything was, but being here still felt alien to him. People would call his name and look at him, and their faces as they spoke to him were different. The way he felt when he stared at his own fighter--different.

Was this experience of the world because of his new experiences, or his new genes? Was this whole new spectrum of emotions something he had been denied his whole life because of his mother? And why did he bear even less resemblance to Drauc now?

His thoughts were interrupted when his PADD chirped at him. He'd forgotten he brought it with him. He scooped it up from the floor--oh look, a new message, though he didn't recognize the sender at first. As he read, he found himself filled with more emotions. Previously he didn't know how he'd handle so much passion all in one place, but now it found himself relishing it. The anger and the hope all at once made life seem that much more...detailed.

He set the PADD down and raised a hand to his forehead. The crest that was there was new. It felt strange to him still, disorientating, even. But it was something that had been taken from him. A symbol of a secret forced to come into the light. He felt very strongly about this particular part of him, which was strange, because he hadn't felt quite this way before the alteration.

So what would his reply be? How would he handle this? What would he say, and how would he direct his life from this point on? Some minutes spent in contemplative silence, and he reached an answer. He picked up the PADD and typed one out...

And he laughed. It was a victorious laugh. He didn't know why or where it came from, but he laughed and knew, somehow, he'd won.
[Show/Hide]

Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #3
[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Damp Towels | Klingon are Messy | Order to Chaos | Answering Fate]
@Auctor Lucan @Numen



The shower still smelled of steam.  Zeph didn't often take water based showers, because she found them a waste and had gotten used to sonic showers on the Azurite station.  But, there were times that water just felt good, clean, and the smell of freshly recycled water and the feel of steam was just pure and good.  Even though she had shut off the water and the gentle ping of the droplets falling from the shower head to the small puddles caught in between the tiles under her feet could be heard almost echoing around her.  With one hand she brushed a towel through her hair soaking up as much of the moisture as she could from her short wavy locks.  Especially after the Versant, being clean felt like a boon that she didn't think she wanted to live without any time soon.

Opening the glass door she stepped out and felt the softness of the bath rug against her bare toes as she sunk down into the non-slip pad covered in some kind of boring grey color.  Opening her dark eyes she spotted her oddly shaped silhouette in the fogged up mirror across from the shower stall.  The fog taking away all the definition of her body and leaving her as a colored blob more than anything else.  With her hair as good as it was going to get right now she wrapped the rest of the towel around her body and dried off the last of the clinging water off her pale skin.

That was when she saw it.

The pile.  Khorin was a towel animal.  He replicated at least five towels every time he took a shower.  Water or not.  And they were always, always piled up in the corner of the bathroom on the floor when he was done.  The replicator was not that far away from the bathroom but she had a feeling he reveled a bit too much in the whole 'I am naked Klingon watch me saunter' after the shower instead of taking care of the things that needed to be done.  Like cleaning up after himself.  There was still soap residue and some thing else... little bits of hair when he groomed his beard that clung to the bathroom sink.

Zeph sighed, and rolled her shoulders trying not to let it bother her.

But, it did.

Picking up the towels she added her own to the pile and set them carefully on the counter beside the sink.  Using a clean hand towel that she had placed for washing her face later, she scrubbed out the wink and cleaned it just the way she liked it before adding that towel to the growing pile.  She turned to head towards the door when she realized that she saw something else.  On the floor was a pair of underwear... Zeph let out another long sigh and picked them up adding to her pile.  For such a small bathroom it could hold a lot of Khorin debris.

Pulling on her clothing, a quick pair of stretchy grey work out pants and a simple tank top with the UFP logo on it she stepped out of the bathroom carrying the large, almost huge, armload of towels and .. Klingon underwear.

"Khorin!  I keep telling you to pick up your towels!" She called out as she thrust them into the replicator so they could be taken apart into atoms and used for something else.  With a sigh she headed into the other room and saw Khorin doing something with his PADD, her own was blinking so she picked it up on her way to the couch crashing into the piece of furniture as she thumbed her finger across the lock pad to access the message.  Reading V-Nine's message she gave a sigh and thought about what she wanted to do.  Finally, she penned her message.

Quote
Dearest V-Nine,

Thank you for your interest in trying to reset my genetic information to the way it once was.  I would actually quite like to stay as a Full Betazoid, I see no reason to jack with my genes again.  I have done a lot of genetic research in my time as a doctor and find it unpalpatable.  However, I was wondering, since you mentioned some things that could be fixed or changed if you would be able to return my eyes to the color they used to be?  If not, that is fine, thank you for your time and consideration.

~Zephyr Praise
Zyrao:
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Eun Sae Ji
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Blue Tiran:
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Zephyr:
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Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #4
[ PO1 Mickayla MacGregor | Personal Quarters | Deck 16 | USS Theurgy | Aldea ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]

Awakening that morning wearing nothing but an open robe sprawled beneath her was a new experience for Mickayla MacGregor. She'd always worn clothes to bed, even when she had had company in her bed. It had annoyed several of them in the morning, but she didn't care. She'd never been comfortable sleeping naked. And yet, last night she had fallen asleep just so. She wasn't counting the robe as it wasn't covering anything. And yet, it was the best sleep she had had in since before transferring to the Endeavour. And that alone scared her.

After having a quick shower, she had only left her room to replicate a breakfast meal before returning to her room and looking at the activity beyond the window. They had arrived at Aldea during the night and now the ship was docked so that repairs could begin. And that left her with nothing to do. Not that she had much to do anyway. She had messaged the Theurgy's Chief of Security but had not yet received a reply. Mickayla was considering walking to the ship's security center instead when she heard a message arriving on her PADD. Moving across the room to where she had left it, she scooped up the device.

"Well, it's not from the CoS," Mickayla noted to herself. "V-Nine, hmm, that Savi android that said I was chemically imbalanced or something. Probably right given how I've been acting and feeling," Mickayla considered as her eyes moved down the message, her heart skipping a beat when the read that the android wanted to discuss their genetic realignment. It had said it was possible the previous day but Mickayla hadn't really been paying attention as she processed killing Gideon Drake. Now, after a good night's sleep, things were different. "I can be me again," was the thought fixated in her mind as she hurriedly typed up a response and sent it off. Later, she would remember that she had been warned there was a chance that her file wasn't present but, in that moment, all Mickayla was fixated on, was retuning to normal.

To V-Nine,
I would happily accept a return to my original hybrid status as soon as it can be arranged.
Petty Officer First Class Mickayla MacGregor


Lorad [Show/Hide]
Lt. JG Donna 'Chance' Petterson [Show/Hide]
PO1 Mickayla MacGregor [Show/Hide]
Samala [Show/Hide]

Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #5
[ PWO Heather McMillan | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]
Heather was positively giddy with excitement. When she had awakened, she felt aches everywhere, and she been quietly awakened from a very horrid nightmare. She couldn't remember where she was, and then she had been distracted by a notification of a message for her. Struggling out of bed, she examined the PADD, and she barely stifled a squeal. Her body held a soft glow of its own volition, something she could only do now when she was really happy, excited, hopeful, or all of the above. There was a chance to restore her? She had a slight idea of what the Theurgy crew had been subjected to, and she realized from the little she had gathered that she was an ironic anomaly, since she was turned into a hybrid. No doubt in effort to save her life, but if there was even a tiny chance she could be restored to a pure Radiant, she wanted that so badly.

She dressed in such a hurry, the uniform was on backwards, but she didn't even bother to correct that, instead, zipping it up as it was and she was out of the quarters and racing for the sickbay, completely forgetting her boots. Her altered depth perception and hastened travel meant she was making quite a spectacle of herself by tripping and falling and tripping some more. She was a mass of mild bruises and lacerations by the time she was standing before the Savi android. And she had to catch her breath before she could ask, "Can you turn me back into a whole Radiant again?"

Her face was quite literally alight and the desperate hopeful expression was obvious, but she had a smile. She could live with the face, but she would love to be restored to a Radiant once more.
  • Last Edit: May 20, 2019, 08:23:10 PM by Triage

Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #6
[Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Sarresh Morali's Quarter's | Deck 08 | USS Theurgy ] Attn:
[Show/Hide]

He walked out of the sonic shower, his eyes still hollow and rimmed with dark circles. Red spots danced in his vision, and streaked out across the orbs as they swept over his room. He'd tried to sleep. He'd met with the Devoted the previous evening, well into the early hours. One by one. He'd come back, here, to his quarters, with every intention of sleeping, and every fear that the grief would come back.

He was right.

Sarresh barely slept at all that night, perhaps three hours in the tossing and turning, but now, the ghosts were there, lingering, one on either shoulder. Amikris. Sel.  And Billions more, names he did not know, but deaths he felt Deaths that didn't exist...

He shook his head when the PADD nearby dinged. Frowning, he walked over to it. He was, of course, on leave for the moment. Left to his own devices because of the events on the Versant.He'd gone to the lab last night but that had been fruitless. He'd be dealing with Those people later. Maybe.

"So what the hell is this? he asked.  There were two messages, in fact. One, from something called V-Nine, which he read swiftly.

Quote
FROM: V-Nine, Vigenary Model I-9 Surgical Android
SUBJECT: Scheduling Reversal Surgery
MESSAGE:

Dear former abductees on the Versant,

The amount of wounded in this ships medical bays has abated, which opens up for reversal surgery, just like Sclergyn qi Versant tasked me to perform at the earliest possibility for all those interested in retaining your original physiology. Before leaving the Versant, your Ship A.I. interface was able to download the majority of the Correction Journals from the Savi Archive. Unfortunately, she was unable to secure those that the Ante xenobiologists had failed to put on file at that time. This means that some of the journals may be lost, and I will be unable to reverse your physiology to that which you had before you were abducted.

Those who do have their journal aboard, however, may contact me as soon as you like to arrange for reversal surgery.

Please also bear in mind that for those who's journals were lost, I will also be able to perform corrective surgery on your appearance, so that while you may still retain your current genome, you will at least appear like you did before the abduction. It may be a small comfort, but it is the best I will be able to do given the medical facilities I have available.

Please reply if you wish reversal surgery to be performed, so that I may be able to tell you whether or not your journal was uploaded to my memory banks. In fact, please contact me even if you wish to remain as you are, so that I know you have received this message.

I also would like to add that I greatly appreciate this initial time aboard your ship, and that I look forward to speaking with you further about your medical needs.

V-Nine


Too Human eyes stared down at the PADD, going a bit wide. His nostrils flared and he looked at it, anger swelling up. "You're damned masters didn't see if to bring me back to my true form. And now you want to offer to do what little work they did and what? Give me back those false eyes? What good would that do?" But even as he asked, Sarresh had to wonder if he did actually want that. The ability to know more with a glance. With a simple look, he'd been able to tell more about someone state. He could equalize lighting in low light situations, so that it was as clear as day, or switch over to things like thermal in total darkness.

It would be a physical reminder that he wasn't as human as he seemed.

But he would, in essence, be crippling himself by removing real, true eyes.

"I can't think about this now," he told himself aloud, scoffing at the whole thing, and checking the next message. This came from the ship's Quartermaster, of all people.

Quote
TO: Morali, Sarresh, Lt (JG)
FROM: Savali, Abraham, CPO
SUBJECT: Disbursement of personal effects of Ryuan Sel, Ens.
MESSAGE:

Lt. Morali,

As per the last wishes of one Ens. Ryuan Sel, you have been listed as the beneficiary of her estate, and 'next of kin' in the event of her demise. As the aforementioned officer is deceased, following our recent encounter in the Azure Nebula, and given the need to reallocate lodging of officers and bunk assignments, hitherto the previously noted will, it is requested that you take possession of the contents of her quarters and all personal effects, as well as logs for review, post haste.

Our condolences on your loss.
Office of the Quartermaster, Operations, USS Theurgy

He stared at the message for roughly 10 minutes, reading it over, and over. Any thoughts about 'corrective' surgery flew from his mind. The man swallowed, his mouth dry, his heart pounding. He hadn't had enough sleep for this. He wasn't....wasn't ready.

Five minutes after that, he left his quarters, a white knuckle grip on the PADD, his collar unzipped and his hair combed only with his fingers. He had not bothered to reply to either missive.
  • Last Edit: May 16, 2019, 08:51:02 PM by Brutus
Note: Limited availability for posting, 8/28- 9/4

  • Fife
  • [*][*][*][*][*]
  • "There's no tea in this tea!"
  • Awards: Awarded for participation in Part 1 of Episode 05: Courage is Fear. Awarded for participation in Part 2 of Episode 05: Courage is Fear.
Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #7
[ Lieutenant Cross | Personal Quarters | USS Theurgy] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
Cross stood in his personal quarters cradling a cup of green tea in his one hand, the Vulcan's pale eyes staring out the viewport at the stars drifting past. The events of the past few days ran through his head. The fight to free themselves from the Versant. The loss of his hand. The rescue of Thea and Albert from the Savi's Machine Labs. The fight with the Borg and flight through the Apertures. The meeting with Captain Ives, and the subsequent testing. Being reunited with his friends and crewmates who had also survived the Endeavour's destruction, whom he had thought to be dead...

It had been an insane couple of days.

Cross raised the mug to his face and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, savouring the aroma of the grassy-scented liquid before taking a sip. He sighed as he opened his eyes once more, findind the familiar smell relaxing.

That relaxation was disrupted somewhat a moment later, when a chirp from the computer console in his room alerted him to an incoming message. Cross let out another sigh, though much less contented and relaxed than the first, and placed the mug of tea on the sill of the viewport before turning and striding across the room to view the message.

Quote
FROM: V-Nine, Vigenary Model I-9 Surgical Android
SUBJECT: Scheduling Reversal Surgery
MESSAGE:

Dear former abductees on the Versant,

The amount of wounded in this ships medical bays has abated, which opens up for reversal surgery, just like Sclergyn qi Versant tasked me to preform at the earliest possibility for all those interested in retaining your original physiology. Before leaving the Versant, your Ship A.I. interface was able to download the majority of the Correction Journals from the Savi Archive. Unfortunately, she was unable to secure those that the Ante xenobilogists had failed to put on file at that time. This means that some of the journals may be lost, and I will be unable to reverse your physiology to that which you had before you were abducted.

Those who do have their journal aboard, however, may contact me as soon as you like to arrange for reversal surgery.

Please also bear in mind that for those who's journals were lost, I will also be able to preform corrective surgery on your appearance, so that while you may still retain your current genome, you will at least appear like you did before the abduction. It may be a small comfort, but it is the best I will be able to do given the medical facilities I have available.

Please reply if you wish reversal surgery to be preformed, so that I may be able to tell you whether or not your journal was uploaded to my memory banks. In fact, please contact me even if you wish to remain as you are, so that I know you have recieved this message.

I also would like to add that I greatly appreciate this initial time aboard your ship, and that I look forward to speaking with you further about your medical needs.

V-Nine

Cross stared at the LCARS display for a long moment, his jaw clenched and brow furrowed as he re-read the message. Anger coursed through him, not at this V-Nine who had sent the message, but at the memory of what had been done to them on the Versant. Cross turned and moved back to the viewport, taking up his tea and drawing another long sip of the fragrant liquid. His eyes watched the stars again, though troubled thoughts ruined any chance of enjoying the view at that moment.

Cross weighed his options, mentally going through the possibilities as he sipped his tea before eventually returning the empty mug to the replicator and making his way back to the console in his quarters.

Quote
TO: V-Nine
FROM: Cross, Lieutenant
SUBJECT: Re: Scheduling Reversal Surgery
MESSAGE:

To V-Nine,
You'll have to excuse my bluntness, but I have no interest in having anyone associated with the Savi altering my genetic make-up any further. I would, however, request that I be cosmetically altered to my previous physical appearance.

Regards,

Cross

In truth, Cross hated the idea of even allowing the Savi android to perform the cosmetic procedures on him. The alternative, remaining as he was and seeing the visage of a full-blooded Vulcan every time he looked in the mirror, was equally distasteful. He wanted to see himself in the mirror again. He had no particular attachment to either side of his genetic make-up. He was neither logical like a Vulcan, nor pious like a Bajoran. He simply wished to see his face as it was.

And so, he would accept the android's offer.
Lt. Cross     [Show/Hide]CPO Ekon Okotie-Eboh     [Show/Hide]Ensign Isel "Foxfire" Nix     [Show/Hide]

Re: SD 57558.63: Correctional Aftermath
Reply #8
[ Lt Carrigan Trent| Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ][/color] @Triage @Auctor Lucan

The evening had been quiet.  Both Heather and he had been exhausted in more ways than one.  In fact, upon returning to the quarters they shared, he simply removed the uniform from her back and laid her to bed where she would be able to rest.  As for himself, it had still been early when he decided to turn in and get some sleep.  And only sleep it had been despite the physical closeness and lack of clothing.  He spent the night curled about her much slighter frame, a protective arm drawn over her as they both took the rest they had so desperately craved.

When morning came about, the disgraced officer did rise first and cleaned himself up before throwing on a freshly replicated uniform, with trousers, and set himself to work, trying for the first time those bloody filter lenses he needed to wear to see his screen, which was displaying its contents outside the visible spectrum.  But there was a benefit to this: there was no glow to disturb the lovely, resting blonde in their bed.

That is, until a PADD left on the bedside table chimed, and Carrigan turned around from his work just in time to hear a joyful sound coming from her throat and it was a bright. glowing tornado trailing hair like fine spun gold that left their quarters, her uniform beyond askew and her boots forgotten.  What was happening?  Rising to his feet, he removed what looked for all the world like a pair of anachronistic eyeglasses and he peered at the PADD.  A chance to return her to her former self?  Undo the damage?  By something that that had belonged to the Savi?  There were times for calm and measured responses, but this was one where there was no time to lay plans, no time to check the math.

On his way out of his quarters, he only took the time to lock his terminal and sweep up his jacket before he went after Heather as fast as his legs, organic and otherwise, would take him to follow her. 

When he reached Sickbay, he started to slow down his breathing, his pace slowing down to a purposeful stride, and he arrived just in time to catch Heather's expression, hopeful and desperate and glowing.  To see her light again by itself was a joy in its own right, but it was quickly dashed when he took in the sight of the most definitely alien android also present.  The Savi who had stolen members of his crew and tortured them through tests; murdered them.  Who were ready to destroy everyone else as irrelevant to their experiments.  So this was this so-called V-Nine?  What Heather was so quick to trust?

"Heather," he quietly called out.  "Wait, please."