Joint Duty Log | Lt Cmdr Waterhouse, Cmdr Grant, LtCmdr Neyes, Captain Neyes, Commo Levine, Noah (NPC) | "Immersed In Echoes" - Pt III
Posted on Fri Oct 31st, 2014 @ 8:28am by Commander Logan Grant, PhD. & Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Commander Tristan Neyes PhD. & Commodore Andrea Levine PhD
3,514 words; about a 18 minute read
Mission: All Hallows’
The five of them rematerialized in one of the Vindicator's guest quarters, and Landon's medical status held steady after they started getting settled. "I'll get him set up." Neyes pushed the biobed into the bedroom past where they'd arrived.
"Standing by." Logan replied and followed Tristan as far as the bedroom door. He'd be close enough to intercept a potential problem, but far enough away to allow for the brothers to interact. Leaning against the bulkhead he looked back towards Amelia and Noah, not quite sure what to make of the entire situation just yet. "In some ways I envy him," He said with a nod towards Landon, "if it's really and truly Landon, he's been gifted with something no one else gets in life." Second chances were hard to come by, and this one was a full reset that brought someone back from the grave and deposited them right smack dab in the middle of the life they'd left behind.
Upon materialization and receiving the combadges, Amelia stuffed them along with her own into her pockets, pulling out the osteogenerator Logan had handed her before. She turned off the pockets once the medical device had cleared the opening.
"If they need anything, you go for it. Do not let them leave these quarters until I bring our ship's ghost," Amelia directed to Noah. "No one who isn't here currently, other than Andrea Levine or James Archer, are to enter here without me authorizing it before hand. Understand?" Amelia looked up at her little brother, and he nodded seriously. "You still know how to send text messages through the ship system using Dad's encryption?"
"Like the back of my hand," Noah insisted. "I have my pirates locked in my quarters... if you can spare anyone to look in on them, Gnocchi's a little excitable, and one of them's bound to have noticed by now I locked them in."
"I'll try to send Cecil to check on them. Shoot me a message if anything goes unexpectedly, even if they handle it." When Noah nodded again, Amelia moved to Logan's side. "I need to talk to Archer and Dahe'el before either of them find the tracks I left behind. Stay here and keep an eye on both of them, please. While Tristan's not given us any reason to mistrust him, until we know what's going on, I'd rather we not leave the two of them completely alone. I'll leave your combadges in your respective quarters. Noah can help you send an encrypted text message to Andrea if you don't have a better option without your combadge."
Logan nodded and looked at Amelia, "I trust Tristan, everything about him says he's as surprised and confused as we are. Right now I just hope that what we have here is the authentic item and that we don't lose Tristan in the process... For everyone's sake." He said, studying the woman's face and eyes for signs of the same sense of understanding. "We'll figure out how to get Andrea up he-- Where is here? What deck? What quarter number?" His eyes were gone, though. Their puzzled green depths had locked back onto the Neyes brothers, watching as Tristan finished moving everything around.
"We should probably replicate some clothes for him." Logan said to nobody in particular, "Try to get him as comfortable as possible after we wake him up."
"We really should avoid the replicator until we can get Archer to lock down the records... but I think I remember Rochelle mentioning that Landon used to keep a bug out bag in the Horizon, and I know she hasn't done anything with it since she took command. The bag should be there still. Noah can run for it, if you promise you'll stay here?"
"That'll have to do." Logan nodded without looking to the two Waterhouses. "Noah... You need to find my wife and bring her back with you. Tell her I said this is important the same way wine and stars are important. She'll understand."
"Wine and stars," Noah repeated with a nod.
"Just keep an eye on both Neyes, and don't let anyone other than us, your wife, or Archer in," Amelia insisted and headed for the door. Noah fell in step behind her and the two were soon out in the corridor. They headed in opposite directions, him to the shuttle bay then to find Andrea, and her to locate Archer. Amelia was pretty sure he was still on the bridge, so that's where she headed.
The detour through the shuttlebay was quick, and the Horizon was unlocked. Noah was able to easily find the well cared for brown leather bag filled with a change of clothes and a set of essentials, and convinced the computer to tell him where he could find the witchdoctor's wife — sickbay. Back to the chaos he went, pulling up ship skematics on his holographic goggles, so he could find a back way in and collect his colander from the room they'd had Neyes in. He slipped into main sickbay unnoticed, and searched for the blond woman he'd been directed to find.
--
Being inside a ship during a battle, no matter how big or well fortified, was never a good experience; being inside a ship as a civilian with two panicking toddlers and a preteen trying to hide her panic through rocking bulkheads, exploding electrical conduits and falling furniture, was a full blown nightmare.
Coming out of it with only a few scrapes and bruises was nothing but a miracle, but Andrea had little time to be thankful. Her heart pounded in her ears, rushing adrenaline to her brain in steady beating waves. Both children were crying in hysterics, and Andrea rummaged through the bathroom cabinet for a first aid kit, holding Cooper steady as she tried to patch his knee, when Logan's quick and terrible message came through.
Air stuck in her lungs and she leaned back at the kitchen sink, seeking purchase, absorbing the news, refusing to think of the absolute worse. Rochelle. "Knocked from the skies."
Oh dear god.
There was no question of what to do at that point, none at all. Less than ten minutes later, carrying Madison in a hip carrier and Cooper in her other arms, letting Anne lead the way through the line of injured led to the sickbay doors. She rushed in, looking around, searching for Logan. For Rochelle.
Upon her arrival, one of the nurses recognized Andrea Levine despite the chaos and the panic in the woman's eyes. The wife of that tall counselor who'd been found with the pastafarian, close friend of the Captain, and commodore on a sabbatical after her ordeal on earth. She was quickly pulled aside by the nurse and offered help. Also recognizing her was the tall noodley headed man with the colander on his head. Noah made a bee line to her as the nurse offered Andrea a chair, and pulled up an abandoned supply cart.
Andrea looked around, frantically, at the nurse, at the other patients in the room, trying to sort the chaos. "Where's my husband? Where's Rochelle? The Captain," she emphasized, as if it had to be at all, "Ivanova -- Is she alive?" her voice was thick, swimming with palpable desperation, her arms holding both her young children close, as if they were her tether to sanity. And they were. Anne stood next to her, and while the girl's eyes were red and wide with anxiety, her delicate arm stretched to touch her mother's, silently waiting for the news.
"Excuse me, Commodore?" Noah spoke up before the nurse could. He didn't move too close. While Andrea lacked the Klingon genetics his own mother had, he knew that species hardly factored when a mother was in a protective mode. So he approached cautiously, his hands where she could see them. "Your husband asked me to bring you to him. The Captain," he paused and looked around. He couldn't spot the little phoenix, but he trusted the counselors' judgment, and neither was worried about if Rochelle would pull through whatever had brought her into sickbay. "She's in good hands. She'll be fine."
Andrea whirled around, wrapping her arm protectively around Anne and looked at Noah intently, her brain taking a moment to focus on his face and make the mental connections between what he was saying to what she was so desperate to know.
"Fine," she repeated, squeezing Anne's shoulder and bringing Cooper close. Fine. She'll be fine. She didn't drop dead from the skies, just fell, and landed roughly. She nodded and led Anne forward freeing her hand to wipe at her forehead absently. "Let's go see Logan, then."
"Right, he told me to tell you something," Noah muttered, his hand dipping into a pocket. Out came a handkerchief with a little likeness of the FSM embroidered into the corner. "You're bleeding a bit on the forehead," he observed, offering up the handkerchief. "He said something about wine and stars, and this being that important, yeah?" He gestured towards the doors out of sickbay.
Andrea took the handkerchief absently, but her hand paused halfway to her forehead. Her brows furrowed and she stopped, looking at Noah through eyes that grew wider as understanding dawned on her frantic mind. Wine and stars, she thought, her mind quickly recalling that night. Wine and stars.
Whatever it was that needed her attention, it was not just important, it was personal, and however important it was, it was unsuitable for children. For a split second she almost refused; unwilling to leave the children behind. But the only way Noah Waterhouse, of all people, would know the reference she just heard, would be if Logan himself gave it to him.
This was important.
She nodded. They were in the infirmary, safe and secure with dozens of medical staff and ship officers. She didn't like the idea of leaving them behind, but she also knew she could trust the men and women who worked there. Crisis or no, all hell breaking loose or none -- the children will be safe here. She took a breath, turned on her heels, gesturing for the nurse to come back, and then faced Anne, lowering herself to one knee and looking at her daughter's eyes.
"Anne, listen to me. Stay here with the twins. The nurses will find you a place where they can patch up Cooper's knee," She gave the approaching nurse a look that could not have been stronger if it was made of pure titanium, and returned her gaze to Anne. "You wait and watch over your brother and sister. Okay? You can do that for me?"
The girl nodded, her wide eyes, still full of worry, still anxious, filled with determination, with strength that for one tiny moment, pinched Andrea's heart. Twelve year-old girls should play and gossip with their girl friends, and watch silly dramatic movies and complain about their homework, and not be the brave and strong little helpers at the aftermath of ship battles. But that was her Anne; strong and smart and incredibly brave, and Andrea will have to worry about how fast the girl grew up later. "Call Schlompi and wait. We will be back soon, I promise." She kissed her daughter softly on the forehead and handed the two crying twins to the nurse.
"Let's go," She turned back to walk after Noah. "Let's go before I change my mind" was what she meant to say, but that first part will have to do. Her children will be safe, they were safe. They were all right. She brought her hand to her forehead again, wiping it away with the small cloth. Whatever happened -- Logan needed her, and that was enough of a reason to rush.
Noah silently guided her though the ship, down to deck eight. To guest quarters that were tucked off the beaten path, towards the center of the ship. The computer thought these quarters were empty, but it opened the doors without protest at the code Noah knew his sister had imprinted. Everything important was Doctor Who or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with her... Knowing the Witchdoctor was involved and she'd made him a sonic, he hadn't been surprised when she'd mentioned that she'd used the name of the actress who played the character she was named for... shifted one letter higher. H J M M B O unlocked the door, and Noah indicated for the smaller blond to proceed ahead of him.
Andrea followed with growing confusion, the adrenaline in her bloodstream keeping her brain focused on the simple tasks of walking, skipping over fallen debris, and maneuvering the halls after the man in front of her, but beyond these simple tasks, her brain swam with a million questions and a billion emotions, swimming and mixing to a jumble she could barely make sense of. She stopped automatically when he did, almost giving up the need to understand what was going on, and watched him tap a code into a door that should have otherwise simply open.
Should have. Would have. Could have. May have... What the hell was going on. She shook her head and wiped at her forehead again absently, walking through the doors, the jumble in her brain only clearing up at the sight of Logan, ignoring everything else in the room. "Logan," she breathed, and only now realized how worried she had been, despite knowing he was okay. Knowing was one thing, seeing, touching, feeling, holding his hand in hers, -- that was true confirmation. Truly knowing.
She finally looked around, noticing a bed, noticing a Trill on the bed, noticing one next to it, the information seeping through her brain one morsel at a time, the analysis lagging. "Dr. Neyes? Logan, what is going on?"
Tristan was at the back, in the bedroom with Landon and the medical equipment. Doing anything other than treating his brother was out of the question, and thankfully the others were out of the way enough to let him do it. He felt the pressure of it all, and the rising intensity threatening to overtake him. Neyes' tunnel vision was all that stood between him and a complete personal meltdown, and Tristan himself knew it. The red and blue beams of a razor cut away most of the matted hair along Landon's jawline, clearing the way for him to clean and patch him up further. There was nothing else, only healing Landon. For him, for himself, for Rochelle. Somewhere in the other room he heard a woman say his name, but he wasn't entirely sure who.
"He was in with the Romulans." Neyes said, still working. "Logan, I need another plasma suture."
Andrea's head snapped to the source of the voice, her eyes narrowing at the request of medical equipment. She walked over, her movement almost automatic, her eyes widening with every step. She stopped near the bed, staring at Landon's still form silently. That explained the secrecy, and the urgency, and the atmosphere of worry and stress -- and just a little bit of hope -- that permeated the room. She wasn't there for his death, but she heard the story, and felt the grief Rochelle has dealt with when they spoke, however briefly. Her gaze turned from Landon to Tristan, slowly, considering, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought.
Andrea Levine allowed herself five seconds. Five seconds of shock, confusion, and worry. Five seconds only, of the jumbled incoherent swarm of signals that the brain produced during times when emotions were in charge, when confusion ruled with a spongy blurry fist.
Five seconds, and then her brain switched. The transformation was quick and efficient; with a small shake of her head, the worried, shocked, emotional side of Andrea Levine -- the mother, the wife, the friend -- was pushed aside, rudely, in favor of the cold, impartial and impersonal data-analysis side of the physicist.
"Are we sure this is him?" her tone was almost business-like. She looked up to the data in the screen and instinctively reached to her belt for her tricorder, only to be patting on fabric.
"Computer said yes when Tristan ran a DNA analysis." Logan responded, moving past his wife to hand the aforementioned counselor the supplies he requested. "Right now we have no reason to doubt that this is Landon Neyes aside from the fact that there's two identical symbionts." He stood as a sentinel, watching Tristan work and Landon breathe, reaching carefully to wrap his fingers around his wife's wrist to draw her closer to him and gesturing with his free hand at the sedated Trill. "I don't have any explanation right now other than the words 'Romulan science', but I..." He sighed, turning his head to look at his wife with an almost baleful look. "I just have a feeling that it's him." Feelings weren't empirical, they didn't have anything to support them and intuition was often considered a joke to people like Andrea. But she knew him, knew how he worked and all joking aside, she trusted him and he trusted her... Implicitly.
Handing her a tricorder came next, she'd been searching for one and it would only further cement both confusion and hope. "I need your help, we need your help. Rochelle can't know about this, not until we know for certain and figure out what he knows, if she finds out and he's a farce or dies..." Logan didn't want to say it, didn't want to think it, but it needed to come forth, "We'll lose her forever. That's why you're here. To watch, to read, to figure this out and protect everyone involved. Rochelle, Tristan, Landon, Noah, Pond... Everyone."
"The computer is obviously wrong," Andrea noted cooly, her brain so concentrated on sorting out the data on the screen, the questions to be asked and the possibilities of finding the answers, that she didn't notice her tone.
The touch on her wrist penetrated the icy barrier in her mind, and she turned, her eyes softening as she looked at her husband and considered his words.
"Of course," she nodded slowly, her mind's eye snapping to Rochelle's grieving face; the one she saw on their first video conversation, the one she tried to hide and so brilliantly failed. "Of course." She repeated, and took a breath, her fingers rushing to scratch at her forehead, shying away from the small cut. She did trust him implicitly, even through gut feelings and intuition; science may have different terms for those, but there was no doubt in her mind that whatever you call it, however you explain it, Logan Grant had it.
It may well be Landon Neyes lying on the bio bed in front of them, beaten and injured. But they had to be careful; they had to not just be sure, but be able to explain, without fail, because only the actual truth of what happened and who is in front of them, would lead to making the right decisions about how to proceed.
"What I meant to say," she continued more gently, looking back up at her husband, "is that we need more information. The computer recognized two symbionts as Neyes. Whatever happened, this is either correct, and we have to understand why, or it's incorrect, and something else happened. Either way, we have to run more tests." She bit her lip and looked at the tricorder in her hand. "Discretely."
The taller counselor visibly stiffened when Andrea so bluntly stated that the computer had been wrong, but did nothing more than shake his head in disagreement. He knew better than to argue with her and debate science right there and then, it wasn't the time or the place -- it likely never would be. As professional as Tristan was, Logan knew that there was a fine line drawn between professionalism and personal feeling and with family the scales were unevenly tipped in favor of hope. Always. He had it. Hope for Tristan and, more readily, hope for Rochelle.
Andrea spoke again, this time far softer, far sweeter. The bitter analytic was gone in favor of that same notion; hope. She'd help them, work with them... That's all that mattered. Logan swallowed the knot in his throat and nodded, softly at first and then a bit more emphatically as he agreed with the tests. "Thank you." He breathed, dipping his head towards his wife. She was a brilliant mind, a brilliant scientist and, more importantly, had learned to marry passion and compassion together in ways that cast asunder the bitter cold bedside manner so many scientists and doctors seemed to be cursed with.
== to be continued ==
Lt Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator
Lt Commander Tristan Neyes
Chief Counselor
USS Vindicator
Commander Logan Grant
Counselor
USS Vindicator
Captain Landon Neyes
Former Commanding Officer
USS Vindicator
Commodore Andrea Levine-Grant
Former Professor of Physics
Starfleet Academy
Noah Waterhouse
Pastafarian Minister
Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster
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