V’alura, dressed plainly in a forest green cable-knit dress and gray leggings tucked into soft suede boots considered the title of her next research thesis: Medical Leave, A New Type of Psychological Torture. Thought it was the sub-heading that was giving her difficulties. It would either be “A study on why sick scientists should be allowed to work still” or “Dear god please let me work on something! I’m on my knees begging!”. Both had their pros and cons but the latter was slowly inching ahead in the ratings. “I’m going crazy,” V’alura muttered to herself.

She plopped down onto a bench and began to catalogue all the plants she could recognize around her. It was either this or count the ceiling titles in the lounge. And one could read only so many research papers and studies published in the Starfleet scientific journals before one’s mind cried out for help. She thought a walk around the arboretum would clear her head but instead it made her wish she was in a lab. Lord have mercy but she missed work. Stupid disease. Making it hard to breath and leaving her feeling so weak that standing up was practically an Olympic sport.

“Momma always said I was gonna work myself to death one day, guess she was wrong because I’m going to die of boredom first.”

V’alura Belmont, Sick scientist on leave