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Day 02 [1030 hrs.] Common Denominators

[ Captain Ives | Recovery Ward | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Swift
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In a few hours, Jien was going to hold another memorial ceremony, commemorating the lives of those lost in battle. She had already thought about what she wanted to say, noted down some key words for the speech, so she had made the time to visit sickbay for another treatment of her morphogenic matrix - damaged as it had been by Gorka's dagger. The trauma to her Chosen Form lingered in how her matrix was unstable, even if she had sequenced away the wound itself shortly after sustaining it. The treatments were a small price to pay, she thought, since she'd prevented the former head of House Mo'Kai from killing Chancellor Martok. Whilst bracing against the force of the large Klingon - and the pain of the blade through her shoulder - she had skewered him upon her sword when stepping in his way. Whilst holding him in place, bracing against his attempt to come free, it had been her attending crew that ended the usurper's life.

Needless to say the medical officers were less than impressed with the state it had left her matrix in, but with their advanced regeneration methods and instructions about shifting her form more often to regain her health, Jien had been told she would eventually make a full recovery. She tried to be a good patient, regardless how commanding the ship demanded her attention all waking hours. As it were, she would also take the opportunity to visit one particular patient that had been moved to the Recovery Ward. Her Chief Intelligence Officer, Andrew Fisher.

His fate at the hands of House Mo'Kai had not been pleasant, and with her own background and recent incidents, she emphasised with that had happened to him. Beyond the fact that she was his superior officer, she wanted to speak with him about what had transpired, and if he needed it, give him some advise on how to utilise tools which they both had at their disposal. Interestingly enough, those tools had less to do with her background in counselling, and more to do with the Intelligence training they shared.

After her treatment was done, having been conducted in one of the medical labs given the unique methods required for it, Jien entered the Recovery Ward and asked the Head Nurse where Commander Fisher was at.

"He's right over there, Ma'am. He's awake." Vinata Vojona said, blinking with his black eyes as he pointed towards a biobed that had a holo-screen raised around it - lending the man some privacy from patients that didn't have their own screens activated. The photonic screen warded from noise and night to a preferable degree, looking like translucent walls for the patient, but completely white to the onlookers if the patient choose to ward off themselves entirely. The biobeds would alert the medical staff about the well-being of the patient regardless their preferences for privacy, and those treated in the Recovery Ward were healthy enough to be released soon anyway - their health all but certain at that late state of their treatment.

"Thank you," Jien said, and once she was at the biobed, she alerted the man of her arrival. With the lack of a tactile surface to knock, she simply spoke up once she stood outside his personal ward. "Fisher? It's Ives. My apologies for visiting without prior notice, it being a spur of the moment since I was here in sickbay. May I come in?"

When certain she wasn't intruding upon him, she stepped through the holo-screen, appearing inside and in front of the biobed. Solemn concern for his well-being creased her brow. "How are you feeling?"

Re: Day 02 [1030 hrs.] Common Denominators

Reply #1 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan

It had taken a decent bit of pleading and reassurances from Fisher to convince the Medical Staff, not to physically restrain him to the bio-bed from which he had escaped on no less than two separate occasions. Granted, one of those breakouts hadn’t necessarily been masterminded by him, and thus technically instead lay at the feet of Theurgy’s newly-minted Chief of Engineering. He’d just been along for the ride, as it were. Though he hadn’t exactly complained about being so surreptitiously ‘rescued’ from Main Sickbay in order to enjoy a most unhealthy breakfast in one of the ship’s less-trafficked, and therefore, more secretive bowels. Regardless, when he’d returned from said morning meal, the second such return in the course of less than twelve-hours, he’d heard a much-warranted earful about the need for him to remain under steadfast observation while the effects of whatever drug his Klingon hosts had subjected him to, waned.

Thankfully though, the Chief Surgeon, whom he couldn’t quite recall the name of, despite her having personally seen after his care a few times since he’d been consigned to Main Sickbay, had surprisingly fought on his behalf, and promised to keep one of her keen, tangerine-hued eyes on him.

Thus he’d been spared the indignity of having to escape from physical restraints.

Still, it’d been just a little more than two-days since Fisher had been remanded into the observatory care of the Medical Staff, and he was starting to get a little antsy about returning to full, unrestricted duty as the Chief Intelligence Officer. He’d honestly had little interest in knowing the specifics of whatever serum had been administered to him during his interrogation, as he had a rough enough estimate of what it was, and where it came from. The counter-argument however, had been the concern of any long-term, or lingering after-effects which presented a legitimate danger to his, and by effect, the safety of anyone working under or with him. To a degree actually, Fisher understood that concern; at least, he had while he'd still been seeing utterly convincing manifestations of people from his past, walking, and talking about as though they were quite literally there. But it’d at least a day since he’d last experienced any sort of hallucination, and to him that meant they were as good as gone now.

Naturally, the Doctors had insisted otherwise, and were it not for their assurance that he’d be released no later than the morning of the 22nd, he’d have snuck out and returned to duty regardless of their orders, determined to take the matter up with the whoever in the Command Line he had to.

“I don’t know how many more of these back-logged intelligence reports I can read without re-losing my mind.” He remarked aloud, unaware that Ives had stepped within proximity of his personal ward. He’d been sat atop his assigned bio-bed, one leg crossed over the other as he leant upright against the back of the bulkhead, a PADD in hand, and another half-dozen or so of them piled up to his left. A few hours earlier he’d traded in the set of gray sweats he’d been expected to wear while in the care of the Medical Staff, for a standard-issue duty uniform, though for the moment he’d opted against the duty jacket, as evidenced by the form-fitting crimson tunic adorning his torso. Training his gaze upward however, he spotted the Captain as she approached, and immediately the Chief spook set the PADD facedown unto his lap.

Old habits of obfuscation dying hard, regardless of who was in his periphery.

“No, it’s fine, of course. Come in!” He answered, a twinge in the back of his mind suggesting he stand at attention, but experience dictated it wasn’t necessarily warranted in this instant. Truth be told, he’d not expected to be visited by Ives at any point during his time in Sickbay, rather to instead be summoned to her Ready Room for a more formal debriefing once he’d been cleared to return to unrestricted duty. Then again, there’d been the qualifier added to Ives’ introduction; that she herself had already been in and about sickbay for some reason. The impromptu nature of her visit immediately disarming any concerns which might’ve been raised in his mind and allowing him a measure of relaxation in her presence. The probe into his status which followed, only seemed to confirm the veracity of her claim as to the visit being a ‘spur of the moment’ sort, rather than anything planned.

“A few bumps and bruises I suppose. All things considered; I’ve been worse.” He admitted after a short bout of contemplative consideration, his head having swayed from side-to-side for the faintest of instances as he seemed to kick it about. The genuineness of his tone betrayed the truth of his statement, though Fisher knew his experiences on Qo’noS while under the care of Gorka’s disciples weren’t exactly a laughing matter. He’d likely bare some facet of a scar in his psyche for the remainder of his life; the manifestations of his conscience brought to vivid realism an impossibility to ever fully forget. Especially while the past-trauma they’d each in turn dug up and thrown at him in an effort to whittle away his senses remained as unresolved as they had been prior to his capture and subsequent interrogation.

“How ‘bout on your end?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, leaning forward enough to hint at a similarly genuine interest in gauging the condition of his commanding officer, of whom he assumed was dealing with her own myriad list of concerns and woes.

Then again, these days, who exactly wasn’t?

Re: Day 02 [1030 hrs.] Common Denominators

Reply #2 –
[ Captain Ives | Recovery Ward | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Swift
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The carefree reply, delivered in the manner it was, made Jien chuckle faintly and shake her head, considering what Fisher would have endured at the hands of House Mo'Kai. "So I take it you are still here just because you like being pampered. I see," she said to match the brief humour. Of course his experience would have entailed more than just bumps and bruises, but she commended him for his attitude about his ordeal. There certainly wasn't any point in wallowing in self-pity, since victim mentality didn't help anyone. "Glad to hear you're on your path to recovery."

The question about her had Jien fold her arms underneath her chest and lean against the edge of the biobed. She took a deep breath. "I'll recover, they say, if I keep returning here to let my morphogenic matrix get the treatment it needs. I am sure you've already seen the recording from the Great Hall, including Martok's little speech to unite the Klingon High Council, but when I took the dagger meant for Martok, it wasn't the first time I was hurt during the course of this mission, and it has taken its toll. I can remove the wounds themselves easily enough, but the bio-matrix that allow me to keep and shift my appearance has become more and more compromised by the trauma to my form," she said, and even as she was about to mention the events, it became clear just how much merit there was in the concerns directed at her health. "I waded through an acidic lake to save the life of a crewmember, and while on the Versant, I suffered the kind of treatment you got down at that Mo'Kai compound, though I guess it may have been for a bit longer of a duration."

Days of torture at the hands of the Scion Admiral, the only redeeming quality of the ordeal being that she didn't quite suffer pain to the acute extent that solids might, since while she had worn two human faces through her life and had the biology of them more or less perfected, there was no point in preserving nerve-signals that may compromise her.

She looked at Fisher. "I had the same training you got, at The Farm, though at a different year, a different time. I thought I might let you talk about it with someone who may understand it from your own perspective, if you are so inclined. If you would rather not, I respect that, but I thought that I might make the offer nonetheless. My experience from talking with a counsellor after my time at the Versant was that I couldn't quite..." Jien searched for the fitting phrasing of it, "convey all the facets of such an experience to someone whom hadn't had the same kind of training. I couldn't quite... compress what we learned and then unpack it in a oral explanation that would let the counsellor understand... the stakes and foreknowledge kept in the back of one's mind when facing such a situation."

She shrugged then, knowing that the experience was still rather fresh to Fisher, and that she may have made the offer too soon. "At any time you want, the offer stands, if you'd rather speak of other matters." She tilted her head with a faint, weary smile, recalling Fisher talking to himself earlier. "I think I overheard you didn't like reading reports, before I stepped in here, so I could appraise you of some matters if you'd prefer that."

Re: Day 02 [1030 hrs.] Common Denominators

Reply #3 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @stardust

A moment of spared reprieve from the busy work he’d so mired himself in, the bruised and battered Chief of Intelligence afforded a keen focus to his Commanding Officer. And while physical ailments might not have been as overtly visible upon the exterior of the Chameloid Captain, Fisher could still detect the pangs of continued loss mounting in the periphery of the woman’s eyes; a telltale sign that even though she wasn’t human, the emotions she felt decidedly were. A counselor would have sensed the same, their ability to decipher physical manifestations of weariness and dread just as skilled as his were as a spy, though they likely came to it more naturally. Still, the necessity of reading someone just by the look hidden or betrayed by the visage of their face was paramount to someone in Fisher’s position, and it came with an added benefit that many wouldn’t have considered. It allowed him the opportunity to connect with his immediate superior in a manner that was wholly uncommon, but which built bonds and established a sense of trust.

Why?

Because in discerning the weight of the toll of being in command, Fisher could himself understand that Ives wasn’t simply a tyrant or authority figure driving his crew endlessly toward a goal with little or no care for the sacrifices they invariably had to make in the process.

There was more to Ives than that, and in seeing so, Fisher was grateful.

It was the same reason he’d so admired and remembered his time serving aboard the Diamondback all those years ago, under the steadfast lead of Captain Musgrave. While stoic in a sense, the man had a tendency to wear his emotions upon his sleeves when in the company of those he trusted, and Fisher had been one of those so trusted. In truth, there was nary a member of the crew of the Diamondback who wouldn’t have followed Musgrave into the clutches of oblivion itself, each of them accepting of the necessity of self-sacrifice, an awareness born of the explicit trust they reposed in him. Years had since passed in Fisher’s career with Starfleet, and while his duty as an Officer had shifted from one of security to that of covert and clandestine means, he’d yet to ever find another superior he so entrusted. For a time, he’d thought that maybe in Admiral Anderson he could find such, but in the world of Starfleet Intelligence, trust was exceedingly difficult to totally establish in any lasting sense.

Though, among the list of superiors he’d directly operated under, Anderson was likely the most trustworthy.

And while he wasn’t exactly so explicitly trusting of Ives either, at least not yet, given how short his time under the shapeshifter had been, it did help the generally wary Fisher to let down his guard once he’d seen some semblance of vulnerability evident in the Captain.

“Oh absolutely! In fact, if I wind up back in here for treatment one more time this month, they told me I’d qualify for special perks.” Never one to let an opportunity to engage in some snarky humor pass him by, Fisher leant into it a little. “Better food. A comfier bio-bed. And best of all, a mug with my name on it!” His attempt at jesting faded an instant later though, as the genuine expression of well-being could be detected in Ives’ sentiment. “Thanks.” He added simply, shifting in how he sat atop the bio-bed once more, ignoring the relative minor discomfort at the base of his back, a long-standing reminder of the injury that had never, and likely would never fully heal. In an odd sense though, it was a welcome annoyance, as it felt more akin to normality than what Fisher had experienced in recency; like an old-acquaintance who knew all the wrong things to say, come to visit and say hello.

“Yeah... I guess an occasional interrogation is just one of those things you just come to expect in our line of work, when you’ve been at it as long as we’ve been.” He sardonically admitted in response to the Captain’s admission of having been in similar circumstances in her past. Fisher had known of the Captain’s past involvement with Starfleet Intelligence, and as such, rightfully assumed that at some point Ives had similarly found herself captured and aggressively tended to for any and all information contained within her head. “On a long-enough timeline, eventually everyone gets found out, taken in by their target, and squeeze for intel.” Accurate enough in his quoting the forewarning of instructors from the Farm, Fisher imagined Ives had likely heard something similar, if not exactly the same during her time there years prior to his own stay at the training facility in Virginia.

Audibly clearing his throat for an instant as if to verbally insert an interlude into the midst of his sarcastic bout of fond reverie shared with the Captain, Fisher exhaled deeply as he gauged whether or not to engage the offer made him. True enough, it would’ve been a substantial measure less frustrating if he’d confide his concerns in someone of Ives’ ilk, given the shared commonality of their past service in Starfleet Intelligence. If anything, it would’ve made his later divulging of said thoughts to a Counselor in whatever mandatory session he was sure to be assigned to, more palatable. Listening as the Chameloid went on to express as such in her own way, Fisher felt his internal defenses lowered to a degree. Silence did however continue to permeate the immediate surroundings as his conscious fought back and forth over whether or not to extend and expand the trust necessary to so readily talk about it.

“Hmm?” Brought back from the verge of wherever his attention had slipped, Fisher replayed the last bit of Ives’ words in his head hastily. His attuned ability to mentally record any discernable vocalization and recall upon it if necessary, kicking in and availing him of the moment. “Oh... umm, no it’s fine. Just the dryness of the reports and analysis put together by the team can get kind of... boring after a while.” Taking a moment longer to consider, the still recovering spy felt content to let Ives’ offer go unheeded for the time being, but as an image flashed in his mind, specifically that of the accusatory face of Brody Miller, a man who once called Commander Rutherford his wife, and who Fisher had known from a mission in his past, he decided not to let his conscience destroy him because of his stubborn sense of pride.

“When you were on the Versant...” hesitating a moment, Fisher cast his gaze away as though he were struggling to appropriately put into context what he was worried about before it went back to Ives. “...going through whatever they were doing to get the best of you...”

“...did you ever reach a moment, when something reared up and sought to undo you entirely?”

“When you felt your grip loosening, not out of attrition, but rather willful surrender?”

Re: Day 02 [1030 hrs.] Common Denominators

Reply #4 –
[ Captain Ives | Recovery Ward | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] @Swift
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Among all the different twists and turns she'd suffered at the hands of the Scion Admiral in his nest, a particular moment stood out to Jien the most, and she considered if she could encapsulate the situation in a way that wouldn't need too much detail about the mission status at that time.

"Not quite," she said, remaining where she stood with her arms folded underneath her chest. Her eyes were on the holographic screen before her, "but you should know, the situation was different in how the Scion had little interest in whatever I might know. I was captured, and the Theurgy had split up and retreated from the battle with the Versant in accordance with our Continuance Protocol. Separated, Thea's three vectors had been allotted three randomised coordinates within a specific radius, and three set opportunities for the Vectors to rendezvous. Since I was abducted, I had no way of knowing what the coordinates were, since the Protocol was initiated in my absence. Regardless, the Infested Scion was arrogant, confident that - reassembled or not - the Theurgy would never leave me and the other crewmembers behind, and would bide his time until the Theurgy tried to attack again. I had given the order, however, to not make the attempt, since the mission is too important let the Theurgy be destroyed at the hands of a superior enemy."

Jien took a deep breath, and changed... to his male form. When she spoke, his deeper voice briefly commented on that eventuality. "In spite of my orders, the late Commander Trent almost had the Helmet return to face the Versant alone, risking the mission and the lives aboard that Vector, because his love interest was among the abductees. Her name was Heather MacMillan."

It was a segue back to the time under torture, the name of the Radiant giving context to the moment Fisher had asked about. "In my case, the Infested inflicted pain and humiliation just for the sake of it, rather than as a means to an end. This left me no recourse, no way to negotiate, or even wilfully surrender, if I'd had such thoughts. I suffered for the sake of it, because the Savi hate my species, and because I have been a thorn in the side of the Infested. You asked for a moment, however, and that moment was when Heather MacMillan was brought before me, suspended as I was in a quantum stasis field..."

Quote from: Auctor Lucan on
[ Captain Ives | Scion Nest | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Joint-Post by Triage & Auctor Lucan
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Shivering in pain, her taut nerves denied the transition of shifting, Jien Ives raised her eyes when the Scion returned to its nest.

Between the sessions of abuse upon her Chosen Form, ranging from calibrated distortion of her morphogenic matrix to being ravaged by the Savi leader, Jien had lost track of time. Not fully, knowing it had to be more than a day since the abduction, but hours? Minutes? After she'd collapsed into unconsciousness so many times, there was no way to tell for certain. She hated the fear she felt when she laid eyes on the gleaming chitin, clicking and shifting upon the monstrous figure as it moved on three legs through the large nest. She hated herself for wishing to draw back, and put distance between herself and the creature. She wanted to remain stoic, and not cover from the promise of more abuse, but after what she had endured... it became increasingly difficult to keep her wits about herself.

It is time. On your feet, she told herself, but she couldn't make herself move, shivering still. Come on. Courage is fear... Biting her teeth together, she struggled, getting back on her feet, sticky with her own blood. She'd bleed from wounds she could not close, but still... she'd stand to face her captor, and she would speak.

"You have mentioned..." she said, barely keeping her balance as she straightened - fists clenched at her sides. "...the Scion Directive of yours, and how the Savi seek to evolve beyond your inferior traits. How you artificially made the caste you belong to... It begs the question... Should you not also seek survival?"

The Scion clicked in the dim light beyond the glow of her quantum stasis field. A sound of derision. Then it spoke, it's voice piercing the darkness. "Just as you have mentioned these parasites, Aspect Maker," it said, approaching, making Jien want to flinch, to look away, but she swallowed, and clenched her fists harder where she stood in a puddle of mimicked blood. The Scion spoke anew. "How there is an immense, unseen threat undermining all that intelligent life seek to build. Threatening to raise the construct of all societies at the foundation. Several times, you have besought me to answer, begged me to recognise your claims, to believe your word. You think you can sway me with the truth you hold dear. It is all you have to offer me, and in silence, I have already refuted you."

Jien refused to surrender. There had to be some way. "You survey all species, and yet you don't see it?"

"We survey, not all of us know. Some of us, however, know more," said the creature that stalked the outer glow of the sphere, the light licking the slick hardness of the abomination's towering body. Frowning, shivering still, Jien craned her neck to meet those four black eyes, not understanding what it meant. Semathal wasn't finished. "A few of us... we know it all. We are more, having transcended the Scion Directive. We have watched you, through the eyes of our kinsmen, for those eyes were also these... staring upon you now... watching the realisation dawn in your mind."

Eyes widening, Jien knew why the creature had refuted her claims. Fukanou desu...

"Yes... It was the next step in our evolution, and we took it. There is nothing beyond the darkness which we do not touch, and there is naught in our way. Even the Alata... They are now at our mercy."

The name was lost on Jien and Semathal saw it, cruel amusement seeping into its alien voice.

"You do not know? You even had one upon your own ship, and you didn't realise it?" It sounded like it had just gleaned what it wanted to know; ascertained the degree of non-preparation the Theurgy held in regard to the nameless darkness and the infested. The lingering silence told Jien she had erred, and she had no answer. It retreated from the stasis sphere, but Jien somehow knew that it wasn't finished. "If you have not weaponized the light already... then we have no use of studying their kind."

There were noises in the dark, and then, aquamarine light illuminated all surfaces. A transport made before the stasis field, a couple of yards away, and when the light abated, the naked form of a woman lay on the dark deck. She appeared human, and Jien stumbled closer, tilting her head, voice stilled by fear for what was happening. The Radiant... McMillan. Heather McMillan.

"She revealed that the last of her kind were upon Earth," said the creature in the darkness, "which escalates our plans for the Sol System. If the last bloodline of the Gîl Naur hide at the heart of the Federation... we will carve out that heart and devour it. This specimen here... she will be but the appetiser."

Heart racing, Jien went for the officer on the deck, but the edge of the sphere held her back, inflicting debilitating pain unto her Chosen Form. She screamed, straining against the outer edge, making her arms loose coalescence. Through her teeth she tried to cry out to the prone crewmember before her. "McMillan! Wake up! Listen to me!"

"She is sedated beyond what her frail body can handle. She blinded Savi in defiance, beyond what was expected by one of her kind, pacifists as they are. Yet now, her light will shine no more."

"Heather! Wake up!" Jien refused to accept what was to happen, pushing against the wall of the sphere anew, her flesh rippling and tearing. Tears of pain welled in her eyes, her voice cracking. "Wake up!"

"Initiate purification field. Nonary setting."

Despite it all, whatever drugs were in her, it looked like Heather stirred... opening her eyes. "Cap-Captain?"

Then, a yellow energy field bathed the Radiant's form. It lasted but for a moment, which seemed to stretch on for eternity - their eyes locked through the separate containment spheres. Jien's struggles ceased in that moment. "No..."

There was a concussion in the air, and Heather McMillan disintegrated.

Not even dust remained in the dim light of the Scion Nest, the energy wave leaving naught behind.

"She was right under your nose," said the clicking voice in the darkness, "yet now, there is no hope for this Cycle."

Jien sunk to her knees, not even seeing how the Scion moved closer, about to enter the field. It's shadow fell over her, about to ravage her ruined body once more.

"We will consume you all."

Having not given much detail to his own torment through his ordeal, Jien's story about seeing one of his crew being disintegrated before him was such a moment of significance that Fisher had asked for, but it was never one of wilful surrender.

"At that moment," he said quietly, face grim and eyes unblinking whilst he stared at nothing in front of him, "I felt something that I never wish to feel again. It... was the premonition of defeat. A realisation that in spite of all the strife, losses and sacrifices we have made, the enemy might still win. Realising that... in such a moment, almost had me believe that there was no use fighting any more. So while I didn't surrender any information I kept from the Infested, I almost accepted defeat in that moment."

Having said as much, Jien sighed, and when he turned his head to look at Fisher, he gave the man a faint smile. "Nonetheless, here we are, after one of the most prominent victories of our long mission, and with the Klingon Empire as our ally. A victory you helped facilitate aboard the Ta'rom. I commend you for your bravery, and I wish to thank you, for refuting that sense of defeat in spite of what you endured."

- FIN
 
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