Posted by Tom L in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Price of Existence

Posted by Kvasir (Story Teller) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Price of Existence

Posted by Lieutenant Issac Forgrave (Chief of Security) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Price of Existence

Fayth had been forbidden to actually assist in the surgery because they had no idea how contact with the motes might affect her. The effects seemed to disipate but it was possible there were lingering affects they were not aware of. So she’d been sent to deliver the bands and then when that had finished, she returned, sat on a biobed, cross-legged and began the programming of additional mobile monitors. When the surgery was finished, Fayth continued to glance at the monitors, watching the readings, curious as to how the motes affected, positively or negatively. She couldn’t help but have questions about what she’d experienced. She knew she had the memories of the girl now as her own, but she wanted to know more, she wanted to tell the man how sorry she was for her loss. To tell him…she was sorry that it had died after trying to communicate with her. Was it her incredibly strong telepathy? Had it been too much and harmed the remnant? Or was it already weak and dying? She didn’t know. But she felt that the contact was desperate, a last effort to pass on…something.

Hab’rabi nodded, a simple and noble gesture. The barest tilting of the head in acknowledgement, or perhaps surrender. Ashen eyes fixed on the ceiling, and his breathing steadied. The alien placed his hands on his chest, laced his fingers together. For all that had happened to him since encountering the Viking, Hab’rabi seemed a man at peace with his situation.

“My kind possesses a given level of telepathic ability,” he said slowly, an elder explaining something to a child. His tone was not condescending or patronizing, merely patient. “Your people are disquieted, your captain displeased. Their thoughts cry out for justice and understanding, chaotic and anxious. Well-disciplined and content in their work—a testament to the training you receive, doubtless—but there exists a given unease with our presence. This is to be expected, I suppose, given what has transpired.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise, but Issac’s eyes narrowed at the mention of telepathic ability.

Peter’s face released the frown a the mention of Hab’rabi’s telepathic abilities, he immediately began a mental exercise to calm his emotions, it wouldn’t hide his current state but it might assisst in covering his emotions later on. He took his place on the opposite side of Forgrave, crossing tree trunk arms together and watching the alien carefully.

Whether by fortune or reaction, the alien considered Sigmundsson for a moment. Whatever might have flickered through his mind during the brief glance, the lord made no mention of it.

Hab’rabi’s gaze swung ponderously to Jones. “This is a medical facility, yes? Where to tend to the weak and the infirm? Not much use for weapons and guards in such a place, no. Untrained in the healing arts, they are as likely to do as much harm as good to those abed. Even the presence of your Praetor—” he lifted a finger long enough to indicate Forgrave “—suggests that I am not free to move as I please. I sense a great curiosity swelling within him, yet I’m afraid I am to disappoint. It is not my intent or my desire, merely my constraint.”

“You may pose your queries at your convenience, Praetor.” The alien turned his full attention to the security chief. “However, much as you are sworn to protect your crew, I must consider the fate of my people and my species first and foremost. You will not glean from me that which would doom them, and I would thank you to consider that ere your thought leaves your lips.”
—Jas—

The sound of Hab’rabi’s voice drew her attention. It gave a feeling of surety and strength. It tickled at memories that weren’t her own, of fear and terror, but Fayth could not pull the memory to the forefront, no sound no sight, just feeling. He was a man of vision and strength a leader the other was proud to support. She got up from the biobed and walked toward the room where the CoS, CIO, and Dr Semenza and Jones were. Her tricorder held loosely in her hand. Feeling the obvious focus and discipline from the officers in the room, Fayth blinked and looked around, she didn’t remember getting up from the biobed, but she stood in the door way.

Forgrave nodded slowly; taking in Hab’Rabi’s words before meandering over to the sickbed. He took in the prone man; eyes showing a mix of concern and suspicion. “I can appreciate yer position; and I wouldn’t ask ya ta betray yer ship or crew. Matter of fact, I think it’s safe ta say that as a whole, we’d like to help you if at all possible. I certainly don’t wish you or your folk ill. But it’d seem good intentions ain’t enough ta prevent… well, what all’s happened so far. So, on that note.... let’s start simple. The uh… Remnants floating around the ship; they seem ta be affecting some of the crew - that your doing? If so, what’s the purpose?”

“Secondly, what happened in the conference room between yourself and NE Sacco? Not just the mechanics of it; we got video spelling that out. But I don’t think Sacco was just airing his grievances neither.”

-Forgrave, CoS

Peter focused all of his attention on the Alien as Forgrave asked his questions.

CIO

The NE had a leg strain. He entered the bay and saw the bed was surrounded by the seniors. He moon-walked outside and pushed the badge. =^= Tomlinson to Captain Asam. The guest is awake. =^=

NE Tomlinson, Security

=/\=Thank you Tomlinson. Tell Lt Forgrave and Lt Cmdr Sigmundsson to notify me when they are done. I’ll want to speak to our guest as well.=/\=
Rende, CO

Hab’rabi watched the two men for a moment, face placid as he organized his thoughts. His eyes moved to the ceiling then, introspective as he spoke. “The short answer is no, it was not my intent that your crew encounter the remnants as they have. As hab, it is my duty to watch over them and act as intermediary between the remnants and those of… corporeal binding. However, in our long and distant sojourn from Valh’aula there were obviously casualties that resulted in the calling of—shall we say—lost ones from the World Beyond. As I was in stasis for much of the journey, I was unable to see to them; it is very likely that these listless ancestors followed me here, as iron to a lodestone, hoping to be heard and remembered.”

“Remnants are no more dangerous than a childhood memory, the bliss of a lover’s embrace, or the taste of wine on your tongue,” he added quickly but calmly, as if anticipating further questioning. “They are the sum total of a valhrni’s experiences divested of the desires and flaws of mortality. In all my years and training as hab, I have never known them to be anything but benevolent; much as we have great reverence for our ancestors, so too do they seem to have an appreciation for those they left behind. Without the Anointing, they are as docile as a tome on a shelf—simply and patiently awaiting interaction. They exist only to guide and to teach.”

A dour cast slipped over Hab’rabi’s mask of calm then, and he cast a furtive glance in the direction of the still-slumbering Ensign Sacco. The alien spoke more slowly then, as if choosing his words carefully. “It was a misstep on my part, a failing of culture. I believe I offended your man with my presence and manner. I was so taken with the urgency to protect my vessel that I was unduly rude, and for that I apologize. Surely a dutiful Praetor such as yourself sought to review your findings thoroughly, and can appreciate how cultural misunderstandings happen. Well-versed in diplomacy as I am, I have been known to encounter such divisions between peoples.” Hab’rabi stared intently at Forgrave, though his voice remained even and calm. “I trust you understand my meaning, Praetor?”
—Jas—

She stared at Hab’rabi, her mind touching his, ‘No…Hab please! These people, on this ship will help us. The wraiths, they took my mother! Don’t let them take us, too!’ Us? Sharah shook her head, those were not her words, nor her memories…what was going on?

Issac frowned at the prone man. He wasn’t exactly sure of what Hab’rabi was suggesting, but he had a strong suspicion - and he did not like it.
“So, you are suggesting that NE Sacco attacked you with excessive - potentially lethal force, despite no apparent danger to his life or the ship?” His tone was bitterly cold; and his expression matched. “I would like to think that no-one under my command would behave in such a manner, but such a severe accusation cannot be ignored. I would be required to launch a full investigation; to include witness statements and a full psyche eval for NE Sacco. After all, if the man’s judgement is that poor, well, I would be lax in my duty to ignore such a dire incident.”

Issac gave Hab’Rabi a hard look. “Frankly, I don’t believe that your statement of events is entirely accurate. And I take offense at your suggestion that I effectively ignore these specific events.” He sighed, and his gaze softened somewhat.

“My suspicion; unfounded as it is, is that someone - or something aboard your ship disagrees with you; and used NE Sacco to further their ends. I don’t necessarily expect to get any solid answers on this matter, and I could well be wrong. But your description of the Remnants doesn’t exactly line up with everything that’s happened here. As I said, I’d sure like some answers; and I’m hoping you can give me something better than ‘Cultural differences.’ At the end of the day, I’d like ta trust you and yours; and maybe even try and help y’all. But y’ain’t making it easy, Hab’Rabi.”

-Forgrave, CoS

Hab’rabi’s eyes fluttered shut, and his chin dipped a fraction toward his chest. While still in repose, composed and calm, the alien lord fair exuded disappointment. There was the barest shake of the head, a sense of resignation as much as frustration. He took a slow breath and let it out silently, relaxing further into the biobed. Eyes opening slowly to fix themselves on the ceiling, Hab’rabi made a thoughtful sound.

“Offense was not my intention, I assure you. It is a pity we were unable to come to an understanding, Praetor.” The alien lord tilted his head back, seeming to take in more of the room in which he found himself. “I can respect your struggle; I am hoping that you can appreciate mine. You are responsible for how many? A thousand souls, all told? I and mine could be the last of our kind. I have found myself at the mercy of forces beyond my control, relying on hammers when I require razors. I had hoped you a man who could read between the lines—a curious phrase, if I may be so bold—but I do not believe such is the case. It is not a condemnation of your kind, merely a divergence between our cultures.”

The NE slowly approached the side of the interview. He found that the Chief was in business. He whispered to a senior who appeared to be the Intelligence Officer and relayed the order from the Captain.

NE Tomlinson, Security

“I have not misrepresented my exalted ancestors in any degree,” he continued, this time with a bit of edge to his tone. “Their duty to the preservation of our people is as righteous as my own. I believe you feel as though you have a very sound theory as to what is happening aboard your ship, and I encourage you to pursue all avenues open to you. I will, of course, cooperate so long as it does not interfere with my mission or jeopardizes the survivors aboard my ship. I would also encourage you to disabuse yourself of the notion my remnants mean any of the living ill—such emotion is beyond and beneath them. Now if you—”

A chirp rippled through the air, and a voice called through the comm system. =^=“Attention, all decks! This is Lieutenant Bowman in Engineering. Please stand by while we initiate a static warp field. As disorientation is common during field attenuation, more-sensitive species are advised to brace. The process should take no more than thirty seconds; crewman who experience prolonged symptoms are advised to report to the nearest medical team. Field will engage in ten seconds. Bowman, out.”=^=

Hab’rabi sat bolt upright, an expression etched deep into his features that could only be described as panic. “You cannot!”

Fayth moved forward at his obvious distress, she must help her Hab. She shook her head a bit, passing Tomlinson. Not her Hab, the other’s Hab. Then her knees shook, having lived so long with the disorientation of her gifts, she was able to maintain for a moment as the vertigo of the warp field began to ripple through. Then the vertigo became unbearable, a sudden overpowering storm engulfed her. Three steps into the room she collapsed to the floor, up was left, down was up and right was down. The horizon spun like the Multi-Axis Trainer or MAT, except it was like 10 axis instead of 3. She was unaware of the low agonized moans escaping from her. Hands to temples against the pain stabbing and hammering against her mind, only to quickly reach for the solid, flat nap, of the sickbay carpet. A desperate grab for something stable. Hab’rabi’s distress, his rolling stomach, vertigo, and refusal to give in, made Fayth feel like she’d been dumped onto a pitching sea ship. Every ounce of her self control was needed to stop the chaos from extending past her to the crew. Her awareness of those around her, the entire ship, flared and contracted in painful bursts. Like a piece of transparent aluminum bowing and warbling around her, distorting what she could ‘see’ and ‘hear.’ Her stomach pitched and rolled and she fought to keep the contents of her stomach in her stomach. Only to lose the battle, acid and bile exiting in a rush to be replaced by gasping gulps of air before it happened again. Fayth shook in a cold sweat, her mind stabbed through with red hot spikes, her vision black and her telepathy acting like an old malfunctioning transistor radio.

The air seemed to thicken and warp all around them, and a deep hum permeated the room so profoundly it was felt at the very fundamental level of one’s being. Forgrave felt only the barest twinge of vertigo, and only for the briefest of moments; Sigmundsson, however, rocked as the world inside his skull pitched and roiled. Nurse Hofmann moved quickly to the lieutenant commander’s side, tricorder already in-hand. She was distracted, however, as Hab’rabi pitched from the biobed and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the deck, a thick wash of semi-translucent bile that choked his throat shut. The alien lord’s eyes bulged in his head, and even on his hands and knees he swayed as if something inside him was struggling to break free. When the hum subsided, Hab’rabi fought to pull air into his lungs. Eyes still swimming to focus, he glared up at Forgrave.

“You have but seconds before I must guard my tongue once more, before they can see and hear again,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Speak quickly and concisely, and pray to whatever gods you hold dear that it is enough to save both our peoples.”
—Jas—

Fayth, med