SIM:Whale: Regulations & Realizations
Regulations & Realizations
(( USS Independence - Sickbay ))
T'tala: The pain has reduced significantly over the last fourteen hours, but... has not yet completely gone.
Whale: It’ll take some time. :: beat :: That’s what the doctors keep telling me about my situation, anyway.
:: She nodded. ::
T’tala: Yes, sir. I feel I could return to duties in approximately nineteen hours.
Whale: How’s Pitik?
:: A flicker of emotion ran over her face, but she fought to suppress it. ::
T’tala: Petty Officer Third Class Danilo Pitik is recovering from his injuries. His chance of survival is now remarkably high, assuming there are no post operative complications. I would estimate such a thing to be unlikely, but not beyond the realms of extreme possibility.
Whale: Is he expected to make a full recovery?
T'tala: Unfortunately sir, you will have to speak to the medical staff to get a complete picture. In summary, he has received a full synthetic heart and some artifical lung tissue. I imagine he will be unable to complete his duties for some time- there is a non-statistically insignificant chance his career is over, sir. He is... lucky to be alive.
:: Whale just nodded. ::
T'tala: I received no instructions as to our next course of action, sir. Accordingly, I have assumed his position until he is fit to return to duty, but I suspect Fi- apologies, that is to say, Doctor Shelley's signature will be required before I can assume the position on a more permanent basis. Crewman First Class Thomas was next in line, sir, but he is deceased.
Whale: What shape is the team in at the moment?
:: T'tala spoke plainly. ::
T'tala: Our team is useless. Crewman Second Class Xael is operating at acceptable parameters according to his medical file, but Pitik and I are currently unable to serve. Crewman First Class Thomas is deceased. Crewman Second Class Del Alore has not reported for duty since the skirmish and refuses to answer my calls. Due to my injuries I am not able to leave Sickbay to find her.
Whale: Don’t worry about her for now. :: beat :: I’m getting the impression there’s something else...
:: T'tala struggled to keep her voice under control. ::
T'tala: Yes, sir. It is my duty to inform you that I have committed a type-two breach of the Starfleet Ethical Code of Conduct for Enlisted Personnel, section D, paragraph nineteen, subsection eight.
:: He chuckled slightly. ::
Whale: Sorry, I don’t know that one by heart.
:: Despite her considerable mental discipline, T'tala was facing an emotional challenge which far outweighed even her ability to control her emotions. Her eyes moistened. She broke eye contact with the Commander, keeping her back straight despite a tremor in her voice. ::
T'tala: I am one month, three weeks, one day, seventeen hours and eleven minutes pregnant. Approximately. This would have placed me, at the time, in the tertiary service area of the Mess Hall aboard the USS Tiger. You may recall there was a low priority security alert placed on the entranceway to that area which detailed how, with the correct application of force, the door could be opened and grant access to non-authorized personnel during the period of time at which the Mess Hall under normal operations would have been clos-
:: Ah. The infamous non-fraternisation rule. She kept her eyes averted and back straight. She was... crying. ::
T'tala: E-Excluding non-deterministic chronological phenomenon such as pedestrian paradoxes, interference by Q-entities or possibilities beyond the realms of even extreme probability, the only candidate who present in the tertiary service area of the USS Tiger's Mess Hall for a length of time sufficient to implicate him would have be- been- been Crewman First Class Danilo P-P-Pitik who, in his duties as a Team Leader, was my direct superior.
Whale: I see. :: pause :: Does Pitik know?
T’tala: Not at this stage. He is still not able to communicate verbally.
Whale: Well... as your department head, I have only one thing to say about your relationship with Petty Officer Pitik. :: pause :: I don’t give a ****.
T’tala: Yes, sir. .. Thank you, sir.
Whale: Being part of the enlisted crew, you wouldn’t have access to my personnel file, but I suspect you know quite a bit about my history - I know the enlisted love to talk about the senior staff when we’re not around.
T’tala: I don't tend to put much stock in rumours, sir.
Whale: So you know I have experience with Starfleet in two centuries. :: beat :: In my experience, regulations are usually written by desk jockeys who have never had to follow them.
:: T'tala nodded. ::
T’tala: What should I say if someone asks?
Whale: That’s nobody’s business. If anyone asks you who the father of your child is, you remind them about the Federation’s privacy laws.
T’tala: Captain Riley seemed to infer from my actions that something was amiss between us. She seems remarkably understanding of the issue. I admire her command style for many reasons.
Whale: Look... there are very few things in the universe that are actually worth dying for. At the risk of jeopardizing my reputation as a hard-ass, love is one of them. So I don’t really care what it says in the Starfleet Ethical Code of Conduct for Enlisted Personnel, section D, paragraph whatever.
T’tala: I... do love him.
:: Whale stood. ::
Whale: Just concentrate on your recovery. Cross one bridge at a time.
:: With a quick nod to the distressed Vulcan, Whale headed across sickbay, where he could see Fiona Shelley checking some information on a padd - likely making sure the sickbay was adequately stocked for the coming mission. She looked up as he approached. ::
Shelley: Ah, Mister Whale. Coming to sickbay voluntarily? Will wonders never cease?
Whale: You threatened to hunt me down if I skipped another check up - I’d hardly call that voluntary.
:: She smiled guiltily and patted the nearest biobed, indicating that he should lie down for a scan. He complied, though made certain to grumble about it. ::
Shelley: Don’t worry, I’ll make it painless, you big baby.
:: She proceeded with the scan and when it was done, Whale sat up again. He supposed he was going to have to get used to doing this - there wasn’t really a quick fix to his condition and he knew it. Whale watched as Shelley’s fingers quickly but gracefully tapped out commands on the interface. She wore now what he had come to recognize as her ‘thinking frown’ as she read the data on the screen, and she tucked a stray lock of reddish hair behind her right ear. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that now matter how many times she tucked it away behind her ear, that lock of hair would always find its way loose to fall into her face once more. But she swept it back anyway, then moved her hand to the nape of her neck and rubbed a sore spot. He suddenly stopped smiling. ::
:: Ah, frak. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? Whale forced himself to look at something else in the room – anything else in the room. ::
Shelley: Well, everything appears to be... what’s the matter?
:: She was giving him a funny look. ::
Whale: What Oh. Nothing. Nothing, just... thinking about everything that’s going to be happening. Mission stuff.
:: He hoped it sounded more convincing than it felt. Shelley nodded, but was still frowning slightly. ::
Shelley: Okay. :: pause :: Anyway, your recovery is progressing nicely. Better than I’d expected, to be honest, but you still need to make sure to get regular rest.
:: She made sure to make eye contact before she continued. Whale found it a little difficult, but managed it. ::
Shelley: Please don’t play tough guy on this mission, David. You still need recovery time.
:: Sliding off the biobed, Whale picked up his cane. ::
Whale: Understood, Doctor. :: beat :: If, uh, if you’ll excuse me, I have some personnel management to take care of.
:: As quickly as he could manage without LOOKING like he was going as quickly as he could manage, Whale exited sickbay. Shelley, frowning, watched the doors slide closed behind him. ::
Shelley: That was weird.