03-11-2026, 03:24 PM
A familiar, hulking, white-furred individual sat down directly next to Art. She moved her eyes to that side to confirm it was who she thought it was, and moved only to adjust her death-grip on her cup. He gave her a moment before he spoke. It was in Klingon, which already put Art more at ease. As she had thought to herself before, it was nice to have someone on board whose base language was the same as her own.
"Lieutenant.” Again, she did not move but her eyeballs to look at him. “If you're going to stay angry, get angry at the lack of live gagh in the galley. Staying angry at yesterday's gagh doesn't help you win battles. I'd suggest petting the targ, but as we don't have one, you look like you need a battle instead."
Artemis grunted. It was the Klingon version of a Human guffaw.
Then came the English, the words the Child of San-Tarah knew everyone in the room would understand. "After the briefing, next shift downtime, I prescribe an honorable battle in the holodeck. Anger has no
purpose without a worthy foe to exhaust it upon. That is assuming Dr. Cassidy agrees with me." The Chief Medical Officer had sat down on the other side of her, thereby flanking her with doctors.
This time, the grunt was more “hmphh” than “hah”.
“You coming with me?” She asked in Klingon, finally turning her head to actually honor him with her full attention. It was almost a quip. She hated admitting when she was wrong, but Beinn had a solid point. There was nothing productive about stewing in her anger. It was better to take that energy out on something, if only to release the tension in her body, which was in turn only fueling the disappointment in her mind.
“I’ve been trying to find you, Lieutenant,” the CMO said, albeit quietly, not so the whole room could hear, “Did Nurse Manx remember to schedule a follow-up appointment with you? You’re due for another
treatment with the dermal regenerator.”
Art’s response to this query was something between a sigh and a grumble. She wasn’t being flanked by two medical professionals, she was being cornered by two mother hens.
The Chief doctor added, “There's a mountain of research to support the therapeutic value of the holodeck. With the safeties on, of course."
Well, he was no fun at all.
Desperately, Artie wanted to stand up and move her seat. Of course, the last officer, their hulking reptilian-humanoid, had just taken the last available seat. Instead, she glared at the empty chair that was to be the Captain’s. While doing so, she also gave a hard look to the person sitting directly next to where Braggins should be, a look that may have been a pleading “get me out of here” to her mate, Peter Jensen.
“I’ll go!” She said, barely able to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Whether she meant to the Sickbay or to the Holodeck, she did not clarify. She brought her cup up to her mouth, though she did not drink the liquid inside. It took some restraint to put the cup back down without slamming it on the table.
Luckily for her, the officer who had “taken her seat” had something both relateable and productive to her stormy thoughts.
"I think the Department of Temporal Investigations was satisfied with my report,” Jadaris said, “but at least I got some assurance they'd try to track down the old primary hull of the Yeager's engine section to see if my hypothesis about Tomer was correct."
Her gaze went immediately to boring a hole in Braggins’ chair to rapt attention on the Gorn.
“Do tell.” She replied to him, her tone now eager. She had no idea what the cursed DTI had to do with Tomer, but she was now latched on to Jadaris’ every word.
==Tags!==
"Lieutenant.” Again, she did not move but her eyeballs to look at him. “If you're going to stay angry, get angry at the lack of live gagh in the galley. Staying angry at yesterday's gagh doesn't help you win battles. I'd suggest petting the targ, but as we don't have one, you look like you need a battle instead."
Artemis grunted. It was the Klingon version of a Human guffaw.
Then came the English, the words the Child of San-Tarah knew everyone in the room would understand. "After the briefing, next shift downtime, I prescribe an honorable battle in the holodeck. Anger has no
purpose without a worthy foe to exhaust it upon. That is assuming Dr. Cassidy agrees with me." The Chief Medical Officer had sat down on the other side of her, thereby flanking her with doctors.
This time, the grunt was more “hmphh” than “hah”.
“You coming with me?” She asked in Klingon, finally turning her head to actually honor him with her full attention. It was almost a quip. She hated admitting when she was wrong, but Beinn had a solid point. There was nothing productive about stewing in her anger. It was better to take that energy out on something, if only to release the tension in her body, which was in turn only fueling the disappointment in her mind.
“I’ve been trying to find you, Lieutenant,” the CMO said, albeit quietly, not so the whole room could hear, “Did Nurse Manx remember to schedule a follow-up appointment with you? You’re due for another
treatment with the dermal regenerator.”
Art’s response to this query was something between a sigh and a grumble. She wasn’t being flanked by two medical professionals, she was being cornered by two mother hens.
The Chief doctor added, “There's a mountain of research to support the therapeutic value of the holodeck. With the safeties on, of course."
Well, he was no fun at all.
Desperately, Artie wanted to stand up and move her seat. Of course, the last officer, their hulking reptilian-humanoid, had just taken the last available seat. Instead, she glared at the empty chair that was to be the Captain’s. While doing so, she also gave a hard look to the person sitting directly next to where Braggins should be, a look that may have been a pleading “get me out of here” to her mate, Peter Jensen.
“I’ll go!” She said, barely able to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Whether she meant to the Sickbay or to the Holodeck, she did not clarify. She brought her cup up to her mouth, though she did not drink the liquid inside. It took some restraint to put the cup back down without slamming it on the table.
Luckily for her, the officer who had “taken her seat” had something both relateable and productive to her stormy thoughts.
"I think the Department of Temporal Investigations was satisfied with my report,” Jadaris said, “but at least I got some assurance they'd try to track down the old primary hull of the Yeager's engine section to see if my hypothesis about Tomer was correct."
Her gaze went immediately to boring a hole in Braggins’ chair to rapt attention on the Gorn.
“Do tell.” She replied to him, her tone now eager. She had no idea what the cursed DTI had to do with Tomer, but she was now latched on to Jadaris’ every word.
==Tags!==