SD242102.08 | Lt. S. Shran, Lt. MacLeod | "Plucky"

Posted on Sun Feb 19th, 2023 @ 8:22pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Lieutenant Si'a Dai'xun Shran & Lieutenant Craig MacLeod

1,383 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Genesis
Timeline: BACKLOG

A trip to Medical was rarely a delight. Si’a wasn’t precisely a fan of being poked and prodded or held in tanks for observation. About the only positive medical experience she’d ever had came with thanks to the birth of her son and even that had been a slight spectacle. None of that had been Craig MacLeod’s fault, of course. He’d always been gentle, patient, and downright lovely to work with. Given the circumstances of their initial meeting, Si’a couldn’t help but feel that her warm sentiments for the good Doctor were anything less than a wee bit miraculous.

Today was a different set of circumstances altogether. Instead of being the patient, she was the one delivering specimens for study. None of them required stitching or surgery of any sort, but they did require tender and precise care. Like all aspects of medicine, life depended on the Doctor’s scrutiny. It felt weird, but she hurried along just as quickly as she could without breaking into an all out run. The urge to do so, especially in those last few yards before his office, was incredibly hard to ignore.

“Craig!” She trilled in greeting, her excitement impossible to keep contained when she recognized his form just slipping out of his office door. He looked tired, maybe a little harried, but weren’t they all? Those last couple steps wound up being more of a bounce than actual steps and she held out her treasure for him to take. A data chip containing the information regarding the print Anaxar had found and several vials of cotton swabs, each containing a blood sample. “We need you to run these as quickly as possible,” Her head bobbed in the positive, “We believe we may have found something that proves Rochelle’s crash wasn--”

A strong hand clapped over her mouth and Craig held a finger to his lips, demanding Si’a’s silence. With everything that had sprung up and happened, the burly Scot couldn’t help but feel the worst tinges of paranoia creeping along the edges of his mind. When he was certain she understood, the hand that had covered her mouth dropped to retrieve the items from her little hands. Where it took two of hers, it took one of his and he nodded at her, directing her to follow him back into his office.

“I’m sorry,” He started once the door was safely closed behind them, “Awfly much tae risk jist tae blether freely whaur any lug kin hear whit ye hae tae say, lassie. If someone meant tae murder th' commodore, then that someone is likely keeping een 'n' ears oan th'se o' us investigating th' claim.” Craig explained with a sheepish grin, pulling up his seat and hunkering down to begin to run the samples, “I dinnae wantae see a'body else hurt, especially nae ye or yer guidman. Ye twa hae hud enough hurt for a lifetime if ye ask me.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Si’a replied, sinking into a seat just across from where he sat at his desk. Rubbing where his hand had covered her mouth was an instinctive thing, erasing the surprise that had come from his swift and rather unexpected move, “We’d be pretty dumb if we didn’t consider the chance for spies, but um… I can’t figure out who would want her dead.” The rubbing became more of a tapping of a single finger against the wee Stenellis’ pouty lower lip, “Maybe Romulans?” It was a thought.

Craig couldn’t contain the deep guffaw that rose from his chest. His bright green eyes looked up over his equipment to meet the pretty, oceanic blue of the Stenellis. “I kin nae hae bin 'ere as lang as some, bit I ken th' Romulans wouldn't titch her. If that tr'Bak sod wanted her deid he'd come 'n' tak' th' lot o' us alang wi' her. It wouldn't be dane a' cloak 'n' dagger.” His eyes flicked back down to the screen in front of him, watching as the finger print rendered in full 3D and spun slowly, identifying hoos, loops, and ridges and beginning to scan the known database for a match.

“Tis aff tae be awhile dear lassie, I will send ye a report juist as soon as I ha'e answers.” The Scot sighed, twisting his chair around and beginning to label and process the swabs she’d brought.

Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, Si’a’s tapping stopped and she tilted her head to peer at his in a most quizzical fashion, “It really bothers you that Rochelle is gone.” It was a statement more than a question. Her big eyes blinked as she continued to watch him work, noting the care he took with each label and each vial and each swab as he studiously searched for answers.

His eyebrow twitched upward in prelude to his response, but his lips were a thin line as he finished gently prying a particularly stubborn swab from it’s home. Once it too had found new residence in a scanner, he turned his attention back to Si’a. “It bothers us a'. It bothers me mair than some, less than others tae be sure.” Craig’s mouth was grim and lacked its usual carefree smile, his eyes were perhaps a bit more dim than usual as he spoke. Then he sighed, a somber sound, and shook his head.

“I owe rochelle mah lee. Her generosity kept me alive whin a lot o' others wid ha'e just left me behind 'n' let me die fur o' protocol. Wi'oot her ah wouldn't be 'ere. I wouldn't be breathin'. I wouldn't be learnin'. I wouldn't ha'e Ra'lin.” He paused, grimacing at the thoughts behind his words before nodding in agreement with her overall sentiment, “Sae aye... It hurts me vera much.”

“We’re going to find her.” Si’a was surprised by the audacity and power in her voice. There was a certainty there that wasn’t often displayed by the soft spoken little alien, but it was there loud and proud this time around. Her chest puffed out as she doubled down on her investment, declaring as much to herself as to the Doctor that there was no other choice in the matter. “You find who all that belongs to and then we’ll all find who was responsible for this and we will make them pay the price.” Her little hands waved at all the stuff he was working on and she nearly winced at the vindictive tinge to her vocals.

Like Craig, Si’a owed Rochelle Ivanova a very great deal. A life debt, a love debt, but a life debt most of all because it encompassed that love and everything that had come tumbling in with it including her career and her son. “Gin up,” chin up… Le sigh… “Craig MacLeod, we will win!” The chair squeaked in mild protest as she left it and more or less leapt to her feet

Stunned by her little outburst, Craig watched her as she stood up as tall as her five feet and change would allow and did everything he could to contain his amusement. Si’a was a delightfully strange little woman, radiant in every way, and a breath of fresh air for those who were stuck in the cycle of rot and depression that came long with loss. It was hard not to throw a mock salute her way, but he curtailed the effort and transferred that energy into standing up to see her safely out and on her way. “Aye, we wull, lassie, we wull. In th' meantime, please keep yersel' safe 'n' sound.”

She nodded sharply in agreement, after all it was the least she could do while they waited for answers. “I will. I promise.” It took everything she had, but she managed to rise up on tip toe just enough to be able to drop a kiss to the Doctor’s cheek, and with a squeeze of his arm, she was off.

So much more needed done.

---

Lieutenant Craig MacLeod
Chief Medical Officer
USS VINDICATOR

Lieutenant Si’a Dai’xun Shran
Stellar Cartographer
USS VINDICATOR

 

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