Episode 1.1: Sidetracked - Its Not What it Looks Like

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Posted on Mon Mar 11th, 2013 @ 6:37pm by Lieutenant Vanya Hudson-Riley

Mission: Episode 1.1: Sidetracked
Location: CMO's Quarters

Cocooned within the soft down stuffed duvet that topped her bed like marshmallow cream on a cake Vanya listened, eyes still closed to the soft thrum of the ship.

“Computer, what is my location?” she asked, her words muffled by the bedspread.

“Chief Medical Officer’s Quarters. USS Aeon,” was the clipped reply.

Vanya let a slow breath hiss through her teeth.

She had been here, one day … two? The Orion couldn’t quite remember

Vanya could remember the party – most of it.

She could remember making her excuses when she realised she had stayed too late and the USS Voltaire was preparing to leave within the hour.

She could remember the dozens trying to persuade her to stay – the night was young, they were just getting started. A little too much relaxation too soon after a strict tour of duty on their part … the imminent return to service on hers.

The doctor on duty aboard, the USS Voltaire, a Vulcan stolid and judgemental had looked askance at her when she had walked into the infirmary – he saw a party girl, probably drunk missing the true problem even though Vanya tried to explain. He shooed her out when she pointed out that his approach was neither good medical practice not logical.

Eventually she found a nurse, a young Trill male, off duty, but only too willing to help. He checked her medical record, checked her vitals, verified the allergen in her blood and provided the necessary tranquiliser and pheromone suppressant

Vanya did not remember how she had got from the USS Voltaire to here.

“How long have I been aboard?”

“Thirty-six hours.”

Vanya groaned. This was not how she had wanted to start her new assignment. Twenty four hours late and on emergency medical leave because of an allergy that was ninety percent certain to be misinterpreted as a heavy night and the mother of all hangovers.

Her long green fingers crept out into the room. The air was cool out there. They wriggled, before curling around the edge of the duvet.

With one swift move she pulled it down and to the side, gasping as the cool air hit her skin and filled her lungs.

So far, so good.

She stretched then rolled off the edge of her bed to her feet. Vamya smiled until that burst of energy was rewarded with the intensification of the dull throb behind her eyes.

Digging her fingers deep into her hair, Vanya swore then made her way toward the shower; that sonic tingle would go some way to making her feel alive again. As she emerged and padded across the room Vanya’s head had cleared somewhat and within minutes she had found her way into a uniform and procured a glass of tea from the replicator. So armed she sat at the desk ready to do something to mitigate the mess that her unorthodox pattern of arrival might prompt.

“Computer,” she said, “Be a darlin’ and arrange a meeting with the Executive Officer. As soon as he has a slot free.”

Lieutenant Vanya Hudson-Riley
Chief Medical Officer

 

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