Dr. Taurek

:: lifts an eyebrow ::

 

"Up to date?"

 

:: momentary pause ::

 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

 

:: clears throat ::

 

That would be a no. Just pop in and ask Huff, even if she never updates the roster here she keeps it up to date in her own records and in her head.

Updated to reflect his going bonkers and sanity-marshaling phases, changed the formatting to basic since the CSS & HTML gets ignored after a while for some reason. Updated his avatar shortly after bringing him back but I haven't posted anything so it may have gone unnoticed, lol.

Doctor's Personal Log, Stardate 0908.30, Taurek M.D. reporting.

 

I have previously documented my conversations via subspace with Dr. Llewellyn, as he asked of my interest in re-joining the Hood. I have just received word from Personnel that I have been re-assigned there. I am, as so many young men are fond of saying around these parts, "stoked."

 

My original assignment there, by even the most conservative estimate, was a disgrace. Admittedly my attitudes and actions were brought about by a medical condition, however the nature of privacy meant that at the time I am sure my crewmates were not aware of it. In any case it will be more than satisfactory to redeem myself. I do however hope that there are no more energy beings floating around, looking for a host; or at least ones that will ignore the "No Vacancy" signs. ::chuckle::

 

I am not certain how I will be received there, both due to past events and the general dislike evident when "snooty Vulcans" were concerned. Of course I cannot change the past events, however even to the least casual observer I no longer fit the role of a "snooty" Vulcan. I have inquired and received confirmation that LCdr Kresh is still aboard. I very much expect continued hostility from him, as it appears his most comfortable mode and any excuse to maintain it will suffice. I would hope that the Trill OZick will consider mending our past disagreements; I will be sure to bring some sort of peace-offering, I do believe alcohol of some sort will suffice.

 

Looking forward to serving under Dr. Llewellyn, I am eager to work under his tutelage. While I am senior, both in physical age and experience, his approach is legendary (or infamous, depending on the point of view), and it will be instructive. He also speaks fondly of his subordinates (which I will admit surprised me, he is not known for displaying fondness for anything or anyone regarding work). One of whom is Vulcan, and he has hinted, with little subtlety, that my emotional experience and nature may prove useful. Intriguing. The other, Dr. Chalice, I am to find "delightful" and "fun," and apparently she succeeded where I had failed in creating an acceptable sugar substitute for the crew's donut addiction. Which, Dr. Llewellyn informs me, is still as strong as ever but has been tempered only by the addition of pancakes.

 

I am most pleased to hear this, as the headache of trying to do "the job" as a medical doctor and protect the crew's health while putting up with donut problem contributed to my own problem. However, I was distressed to hear that Sarvek has had difficulty in maintaining her health and is, according to Dr. Llewellyn, "pudgy." Of course I will refrain from making a professional judgement until I am able to review the file and the woman. Dr. Llewellyn hinted that Dr. T'Mir, the other Vulcan on staff, would certainly accept the assistance of another to "double-team" the Operations officer, which does not seem logical from any perspective, but again the Hood has shown a marked dislike of the concept, so it is not surprising.

 

This is all, as the humans like to anachronously phrase it, "putting the cart before the horse." While I have received the assignment, I have yet to hear when or how I will rendezvous with the ship. It would be illogical for me to place more thought on the subject until then. That of course will not stop me, as there is an undeniable emotional response to this posting which, thankfully, is positive in nature. I will continue to look forward to my eventual arrival on board.

 

As an odd side-note, the head nurse of the Hood has also sent me a text comm, with an attached prescription order. In very professional, yet urgent tones, she asked that I bring a case of gaudiusalectate when I arrive, as they have had difficulty procuring it out in space. As this drug is rarely prescribed, I cannot imagine why the Hood would require such a large quantity, however the forms are filled properly and I see no reason not to comply. Dr. Llewellyn's communications with me also were filled with praise for Ms. Intanick, so that only reinforces the request.

 

Also I am puzzled as to why I was requested by Dr. Llewellyn to find a Mr. Cad Avers and "hog-tie him to a warp nacelle and bring him if you find him." As this is hardly within regulations of course I cannot do so, though I am interested to find out why the request was made. When I arrive on the Hood I shall be sure to ask.

 

End Personal Log.

Dr. Llewellyn Settles In

 

Dr. Sean Caius Llewellyn was seated in the uncomfortable chair in his quarters with a cognac in hand, contemplating the Vulcan that he'd be working with. The fact that Taurek wasn't a standard Ice King was evident from the moment Sean had walked through the parted sickbay doors. He thought it, to borrow the Vulcan phrase, "fascinating," and certainly something he would like to explore, treading carefully; the man was obviously unhinged enough to fly off the handle at the drop of a hat, and Sean knew intellectually and from prior observation just how strong a Vulcan could be under control. He certainly didn't want to discover that strength when a healthy dose of rage was thrown in.

 

Having been briefed on the prior mission, with an emphasis on the "brief," he could understand why the Vulcan looked rather gaunt; apparently vegetarian foodstuffs had been at a premium on Baldos. He would monitor the situation, however, to make sure his comrade didn't have to lay on the biobed with the witty new doctor hovering overhead. Sean had a strong feeling that such a situation would not help their relationship in the slightest. Not that he expected much of a relationship at all, other than a professional one.

 

Sean thought that a pity; Taurek was by far one of the most striking men he'd had the pleasure to see first-hand, with the exotic features and bronzed skin. It was difficult enough for a human female to catch the eye of a male Vulcan; he didn't even want to ponder the male/male odds. Considering the persnickety nature of Vulcan reproduction, it wasn't surprising, nor logical that there should be many; biology had its reasons, and for Vulcans, it just didn't make any sense. Sean would have to hope for companionship elsewhere, and otherwise admire Taurek the way he would a painting: it's very pretty, but stand behind the velvet ropes and do not touch.

 

Reaching over with a soft sigh escaping his lips, he flipped the button to start a recording. His voice, rich with the musical inflection of his Welsh heritage and tinged with amusement, as it so often was, echoed softly in the sparsely furnished room.

 

"Personal Log, Sean Llewellyn M.D. I have arrived on the Hood, and made the acquaintance of a few of my co-workers, namely Dr. Taurek and Dr. Lennol. The latter seemed of little consequence, and I imagine he'll be on the graveyard shift excepting emergencies. An anesthesiologist, apparently. The former... well, what can I say but "wow and wow?" Striking in appearance, he is, but also festering with some sort of emotional problems, which of course is nearly unheard of in a Vulcan, let alone one serving in Starfleet. I'm afraid I started poorly with him, my wit of course. Can't seem to control it, which is probably why I've exasperated my past two CMOs to the point of homicide. Oh well, it's as part of me as my nose, and I'd hardly take a laser scalpel to remove that, so why should I the other?"

 

Running a hair through his mid-length wavy black hair, his hazel eyes glittering with the same amusement that accompanied his voice, he paused and took a sip of his cognac. He was still dressed in civilian clothes, though he had shed his 3/4 length black leather coat upon arriving in his quarters. When he stood he was just shy of two meters, and had a well-toned build that would look more suited to the red uniform than the blue, but he was tremendously vain and spent as much care on his own body as he did his patients, if not more. The fact that he admitted it openly saved him from being pompous about it, and his humor, which was usually biting, could sooth as well if he put his mind to it. He rarely bothered, though, unless it was someone who caught his eye.

 

"I'm not sure when we're moving out, or where we're going when we do, for that matter. I'd hope that it would be something that wouldn't send a stream of crewmen into sickbay with broken bones and blood gushing everywhere. Hardly tidy, that, nor desirable for said crewmen. I've yet to meet the CMO, the O'Claire woman. She has quite the reputation, though what of it is true is far beyond my ability to guess, I'll just have to see. Neither do I know the identity of the Captain, yet. It was rather a shock when I received my assignment orders to see "CO: To Be Determined" at the top. That's a phrase I only expect to see on the upcoming schedule for a football tourney where the clubs haven't finished qualifying. With any luck, it'll be a woman; then I won't have to behave myself."

 

He settled back into the chair and contemplated another moment, his lips turned up in a rather lop-sided smile as he thought of his last CO. With a light chuckle, he continued.

 

"Ah, well. As for the job, it'll be the same as always: moments of sheer boredom and moments of chaos. With the turmoil this ship has apparently gone through recently, I wouldn't be surprised to see some people in with depression. Perhaps that's why I was given this assignment. I'm no shrink, but I know brains, after all. I suppose I'll have to be sure that there's a plentiful supply of anti-depressants on hand, just in case. Well, I'd better shut this bloody thing off and finish settling in; I'll want to check out the weight room and gets some reps in before I settle in for the night.

 

"Good luck, me!"

 

Sean shut off the recording, and then unfolded his frame from the chair. Time to get to work so he could go play.

The Donut Hole

 

The sooner the Rogainians and the mislead crew were settled on Baldos, the more satisfied Taurek would be. He'd somehow managaged to tamp down on the burning rage that had swelled within him upon learning that the assembled body-snatchers had been given permission to use Korps' body. Given permisson! While the former security officer had the organ donor option enabled in his file, the Vulcan doctor certainly doubted that the buff crewman meant that someone else could use his entire body to gallavant across the Galaxy. Especially when that someone was an assemblage of criminals.

 

What baffled the doctor more than anything, even with Huff and Ksanders suddenly playing the gracious hosts to these things after playing unwilling hosts before in a much more upsettling fashion, was security's sudden disinterest in the situation. After filing charges, he would have expected more of a reaction, certainly, and more of a presence. An investigation, at least, would be required, and what knowledge of the law he had, an arrest would be warranted as well. What, however, did he receive from the lawmen in red? Nothing.

 

He was annoyed with O'Claire as well. The "do your duty" and "follow orders" attempts hadn't seemed appropriate, considering they were giving bodies away to criminals! They could even be called terrorists, considering their plots. And rather than attempting to contain them, arrest them, or any other proper action, the orders were to help. No Starfleet crewman was required to accept orders that were illegal, and providing comfort and aid to such types certainly fell along those lines, and he'd be damned before he'd lift a finger for them. Someone else wants to drop a weight on his or her head, he'd certainly do everything corporeally possible to ensure the Rogainians didn't get another offering; someone stubs their toe, he'd repair the damage; but not the Rogainians or any of the idiots that were going along with them.

 

Taurek thought that if Huff's brain was a donut, that at the moment, the Captain was thinking out of the hole in the middle and not the sweet part. Speaking of donuts... the Vulcan emerged from the lab and grabbed two glazed off the tray and sickbay before stalking back into the lab. If it were possible to slam a sliding door, he would have; since he could not, he settled for taking a huge bite out of his pastry.

The End Finally Comes

 

With the physical examination of Zareh's brain and internal chemistry complete, and showing no signs of problems, Taurek left the psychological Q&A session for O'Claire to finish. He made his way over to the Crisper and looked down upon the body of Ensign Korps. He had discovered that the authorization to terminate had come in during his absence, but obviously hadn't been carried out yet, as the redshirt's body had managed to rise once again, temporarily. All of the scan data indicated that the formerly fried brain was now perfectly healthy after the Rogainian possession, but empty of anything. In essence, he was looking upon a full grown infant, sedated upon the biobed. That didn't change the situation, however, as the termination decree signed by Ensign Korps was clear in stating that the body was to be terminated in the event of losing that filament of individuality that made him who he was.

 

Stepping aside, he headed to the med-locker and unlocked it. Grabbing the ingredients for a fatal brew, he logged them in. Taurek then stopped off at a table and measured out the correct amounts of each element, and filled a vial and placed it within a hypo. He returned the chemicals to the cabinet and relocked it, and then grabbed the hypo and stopped off at the office to grab the official recorder. After making his way back to the side of Korps' biobed, he placed the recorder nearby and activated it.

 

"This is Lieutenant Taurek M.D., Stardate 10704.11, time 16:42 hours, location USS Hood NCC-1703, sickbay, biobed 6. According to the wishes stated by Ensign Korps on form XD-2248, and the authorization returns from XD-2248-A, B and C from the next of kin, the termination of the body has been duly authorized. All pertinent medical data regarding the status of said body is included on forms XD-2248-M, and the summary follows: After receiving a major blunt force trauma to the head, considerable brain damage ensued, causing complete brain death by SD 10610.20; while recent events have caused the brain to be functional once again, all scans and tests performed by law have still indicated that there is no trace left of Ensign Korps within the mind. Indeed, no trace of any personality or intellectual ability remains. Therefore, according to the afore stated wishes of the individual that no longer remains, and the release authorizations of the next of kin, I shall hereby inject 50cc of the chemical mixture known as retrohyalinate, a Starfleet Medical approved euthanasia method, into the body."

 

Taurek stepped forward, activated the hypo, and pressed it into the neck of Korps' body and methodically injected the retrohyalinate. After the vial emptied, he watched the life-sign indicators on the headboard slowly weaken, and then stop altogether. With great respect, Taurek placed his hand upon Korps' own a moment before reaching up to silence the monitors.

 

"As of 10704.11 at 16:44 hours, I hereby pronounce the body of Ensign Korps deceased. His corpse will be placed in stasis until it can be returned to Earth for the burial services indicated in XD-2147-C. End of record," Taurek said with the finality the situation warranted, and switched off the recorder. He then indicated for the orderlies to deal with the corpse of Korps, and they quickly and reverently complied while Taurek headed to the medical waste disposal and incinerated the vial that had contained the retryhyalinate and placed the hypo itself in a full level 4 decontamination and cleansing unit.

 

Knowing that LCdr Precip was outside standing guard due to Zareh's presence, he headed out of the doors and stopped by him.

 

"I wished to inform you, Lieutenant Commander," Taurek stated to the security officer. "Ensign Korps has been terminated as to his request. I am not certain if you have already had a memorial service during my absence, but if not, I would honored to attend."

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

 

He didn't like it, he didn't like it at all. Sure, having a body again was absolutely Mandy for him, and building the structure was the most fun he'd had in many eons, but they were risking not only losing these bodies, but their true selves as well. That Vulcan inside, and all his memories, indicated that while in some ways the Starfleeters were very simple, they usually managed to figure things out in the end, which wouldn't bode well for the Rogainians. He sincerely doubted they'd say "Oh, what a horrible misunderstanding" and let them go merrily on their way. No, they'd try to trap them, trap them just as they were trying to already.

 

Why couldn't she see that? Bombarding the planet, destroying their local resources was not the way a starship crew comes back to a planet to help their poor, disease ridden castaways. What exactly they do know he couldn't tell from the planet, but they've proven that they're on their guard, and will be watchful. The Rogainians, meanwhile, were going to pretend to be their hosts... He sincerely doubted even the most dense crewman on the ship would buy the subterfuge for long. He already knew that he couldn't pretend to be that Vulcan, Taurek; emotional control wasn't his strong suit, and even a Rogainian can't just immediately "borrow" it and succeed. Truth be told, the Rogainian psychic hooey wasn't his strong suit either.

 

He had few options, though. The cranky male was threatening to use his psychic buzzer rather than let him blow their cover. He didn't agree to this course of action in the first place, and now to be threatened by that fool and that primping prima dona in the bearskin was too much, and it made his decision easy. They could get themselves in hot water, he wouldn't. There would be a better time and place for all of this, and he would be certain to be there, just as he had for this opportunity. With a last moment to enjoy the sensation of his limbs, he tore himself away from the body very abruptly so as not to give any advanced warning to the others, and once again he was floating free of the bonds of corporeality. With some regret, but with his principles and true self intact, he left Baldos to be at one with the solar radiation and wait.

 

Meanwhile, Taurek's body fell to the ground in a heap, and lie still. His mind, free of its oppressor, eagerly tried to put itself back in place, but the shock of the rapid departure of the Rogainian had disturbed the fragile matter of the brain too much for Taurek to meld with himself yet. It would take some time before he could even start, let alone master being the sole owner and operator of his body once again.

 

The entity, knowing that, was amused as he slinked his way through the solar system. His former compatriots would have some time to try their ruse before the Vulcan doctor came to his senses and blew the whistle on them. He wouldn't turn on them, that wasn't in his nature. But he would, and happily did, turn his back on them to save himself and to not violate his principles further. While he already missed the taut, sinewy body of the Vulcan, he knew that time, though passing slowly, was on his side, and he'd have another chance, hopefully with a willing host.

Note: Transmitted to the U.S.S. Hood prior to their departure of Baldosian orbit, and would be included in the data given to Root by Reed in sickbay.

 

Upon arrival at Baldos, and the preliminary inspection of the away team, including the submitted data from Captain Helen E. Huff, the situation in sector 248 of the planet Baldos indicates the high probability of a highly contractible, potentially lethal virus that could, if transferred off-planet, cause in the very least a significant outbreak of the contagion. Therefore, under the authority given to me under my certification as a duly licensed pathologist, under Starfleet Medical Code 246-J, I hereby place the entire planet of Baldos under Level 4 quarantine until further analysis can be made.

 

Taurek M.D.

 

***

Auto-Link -- Starfleet Medical Code 246-J: Level 4 Biohazard Containment Policies and Procedures, Condensed

***

 

Starfleet Medical

 

246-J: Level 4 Biohazard Containment Policies and Procedures, Condensed

 

Definition:

 

Level 4 Biohazard Containment means the total isolation of all biological source-material from uncontaminated sources, including all materials which may carry such biological sources. The biohazards present a major threat to the life, health or psychological well-being of sentient humanoids, and the transmission of such biohazards is highly communicable.

 

Policies:

 

Any Starfleet physician licensed in pathology may, at their discretion, order a Level 4 Biohazard Containment, or Quarantine, if any of the following conditions are met: microscopic analysis indicates the presence of a virulent disease warranting Level 4 containment; preliminary symptom analysis of affected people/personnel indicate the presence of a virulent disease warranting Level 4 containment, especially under conditions of unknown exobiological conditions; there is preliminary evidence that a virulent disease from a previously activated Level 4 containment is suspected in the current location.

 

Upon the classification of a Level 4 Quarantine, the issuing physician must notify the ranking officer in their situation of the classification. If the disease has been positively identified, the physician must then work to contain the biohazard, using methods outlined in SFMC246-I; if the classification came from preliminary data, the physician must first work to identify the biohazard. Should, after identification, the biohazard be less virulent, the physician must, according to guidelines in SFMC246-H, determine which, if any, level of biohazard containment is required.

 

In the event of a Level 4 Quarantine, a zone must be established, outlining the affected area: if localized on the surface of a planet, a perimeter must be established, with zones of entry and exit established with sufficient security resources to montior the perimeter; if on a space vessel, under the discretion of the issuing physician, certain decks may be outlined, if Level 4 Containment Procedures can be initialized to ensure that no biomaterial may be transmitted to other decks. In the event an entire planet is placed under quarantine, only vessels/cargo meeting the specifications in SFMC246-I may proceed in atmospheric entry.

 

Procedures & Guidelines:

 

Should a Level 4 Biohazard Containment be issued, the ranking physician, in all matters related to the maintenance of the containment and the work therein is the temporary ranking officer; any other pertinent details will be overseen by the ranking officer, and filter down departmentally. To maintain Level 4 containment, the ranking physician can countermand any order given if the order will constitute a break in containment, or hinder the work on maintenance of the containment or any work to cure/control/contain the biohazard within the zone.

 

In the event of a Level 4 quarantine on any planet, communications buoys must be placed in orbit, transmitting the location of the affected zone and proper warnings. If the quarantine effects the entire planet, bouys must also be placed at the outer reaches of the system. If the issuing physician cannot oversee that these needs are met, it falls to the ranking officer available. If it is not possible to launch bouys, such must be made known in the initial report to Starfleet Medical, which must be transmitted within 60 minutes of the issuing of a Level 4 Biohazard Containment.

 

Personnel transport into or out of Level 4 containment areas using the transporter device is strictly prohibited. Cargo and supplies may be transported via transporter INTO the affected area, but transport OUT OF the zone is strictly prohibited. If possible, specialized Level 4 Portable Transport Units (PTU4) should be used to enter/leave the containment zone. If this is not viable, personnel/cargo shuttles can be used to enter the zone, but must undergo Level 4 Decontamination Protocols (DP4) before coming in contact with uncontaminated environments. For starship operations, the shuttlebay must be fitted with DP4 compliant units. To isolate decks on a starship, all air, water and other materials coming out of the isolated deck must be either decontaminated under DP4 protocols, which can include chemical spray, radiation immersion, and plasma incineration. All access points between Level 4 isolated decks and standard decks must be sealed. The ranking engineer and ranking physician must inspect and sign off on all procedures for deck isolation.

 

All personnel entering Level 4 containment zones must be in Level 4 Biological Hazard Personnel Suits (BHPS4). The BHPS4 must be decontaminated using DP4 before entering uncontaminated environments. All BHPS4 must pass inspection before use. All portable air supplies for BHPS4 must be self-contained, and pass inspection before use. DP4 must be used for the decontamination of any BHPS4 before the personnel inside may A) enter an uncontaminated environment and :blink: exit the BHPS4.

 

Should it become necessary to remove biological materials from the containment zone for analysis, such samples must be stored in SFM approved Level 4 Biohazard Containment Units (BCU4) and the BCU4 must be decontaminated using DP4 guidelines before being transported through uncontaminated environments, Any BCU4 with contaminated materials within may not be transported with the transporter device.

 

To end Level 4 Biohazard Containment, the ranking physician must ensure that: there are no biological entities within the zone capable of transmitting the biohazard remaining, unless they are contained within a BCU4 structure; the air and all surfaces are clear of the contagion; the zone has been sterilized according to SFM246-L; or the classification of Level 4 containment was incorrect based on further analysis.

Luck of the Draw?

The Orderlies Have a Quiet Day in Sickbay

 

It had been a slow day. The nurse had checked on Korps' brain-dead body, and as the redshirt vegetable hadn't done anything but remain a vegetable since the last check, all was well in sickbay. The orderlies had congregated around one of the biobeds and played poker for a good two hours before calling that quits. The only female in the group, Spc. Reed, had managed to clean them out, again. The others finally decided that she must be cheating, but they couldn't figure out how, as they'd kept eagle-eyes on her from the start, and when she wasn't holding her cards, they sat folded demurely on the bed in front of her. So, rather than lose the clothes on their backs, which after three days of poker was about all they had left to wager anymore, they decided to turn to a friendly game of euchre instead.

 

Team A was made up of Spc. Reed and Crewman Greggson, and they quickly skunked Team B with a good run on clubs. Reed shot the moon once, and they had manged to snare all five tricks twice, and the first was a very short game. Greggson, who still thought Reed had cheated at poker somehow, was now more than happy to join on her good fortune, however she came by it. Crewmen McNeal and Tartra were not as amused, but they had seen no signs of foul-play, so couldn't say anything without sounding like poor losers. After another two games, Team A prevailed easily both times, and McNeal and Tartra called it quits.

 

After lunch, another security officer came into sickbay with a head injury, earned while exercising in the rec room. This time, at least, the Redshirt Curse was still at lunch, and the fortunate young man was able to leave with only a minor concussion, and would not be keeping his colleague company in what Greggson called the "Crisper," as that particular section of sickbay had a tendency to accumulate vegetables for storage.

 

Sickbay was once again quiet, but there was no more card playing, and wasn't likely to be if Reed was around. They read, or found some other way to pass the time until end of shift. Greggson held Reed back after McNeal and Tartra had left before them.

 

"How do you do it, Reed?" He asked.

 

"Do what?" Reed replied, with an innocent batting of eyelashes.

 

"Win," Greggson said with a smirk. "All of the time."

 

"Just lucky, I guess," Reed said with a smile, and then pertly exited out of sickbay, her ponytail bouncing and waving behind her. She hadn't lied, oh no. She was extremely lucky, and it helped her win, but luck wasn't all of it. Not that she'd tell anyone the whole truth. Not yet, anyway.

Buried Deep

An Expression of Taurek's Struggle

 

No bars, no locks, no guards; a prison without walls.

No light, no sound, no touch or feel; solitary confinement from Hell.

No time, no place, no worldly ties; a sundered entity without hope.

 

Words locked away in a vault that can't be opened,

Knowledge stolen by a parasitic thief,

Thoughts washed away by a smothering tide.

 

Anchored fathoms deep with no hope of surfacing,

Asphyxiated by the pressure of another soul,

Alone, Afraid, but Aware.

 

Drifting in a dreadful dream with

Emotions swirling in a fog of

Reveries lost, pains forgotten.

 

Memories now only fragmented feelings

Tied together by an age of existence

Born in the hot sands of a distant planet.

 

Mite of awareness clinging awkwardly to a

Neighboring spark of life and light,

Fighting frantically to regain its own.

Conversion

Taurek

 

As soon as the dizziness started, Taurek knew he was in trouble. Having at least some idea of what was happening, though, he had just enough time to start closing his mind. In the odd relativity of the mind, the battle seemed to take ages. He could feel an entity trying to take over his body, and he of course fought it using every mind trick he knew, and a few more creative attempts. It was soon evident that it was futile, however, and he began losing control of his body. First his outer extremities, and then everything else. Using his last throw, he blasted all of his rage at his possessor, and then it was over.

 

Though he was disconnected from his body, and unable to express anything, we was still aware of his foe. He could feel the joy emanating from it, but he could also feel the pain. The little spark of Taurek's awareness, deeply buried, was satisfied at least with that. The entity may have won, but it had paid.

--

Meanwhile, the J-47 swayed on the Vulcan body's feet. To feel the surge of blood pumping through veins, the rapid beating of the heart in his breast, to see and hear, and boy could he hear... It was a wonderful feeling, but the surge of ecstasy was tempered by the pounding in his head. To feel it was a joy in itself, but pain was pain, and unpleasant. Taking the elegant hands of the doctor, he grasped the skull and winced.

 

"Wow... Ow..." His face was divided in the duality of the moment. His grin was also a grimace, and though his eyes shone with elation they also watered. As he teetered there in his moment of triumph, he looked upon the others and laughed, vigorously at first and then more sedately as his headache pounded.

Whole-Grain Rest

Lt Taurek M.D.

 

There was a good bit of Taurek's emotional side that felt quite guilty about sitting there, munching on bread, as Precip and Turel remained behind at their camp in the woods eating berries and nuts. Then, with an unusual assist, his logical side pointed out that they had chosen to stay behind, and therefore gave up the opportunity for a more filling and tasty treat, so that guilt was pointless. Nonetheless, the feeling continued to gnaw on him a little, though deep within him.

 

Concern also filtered in, based on Ksander's comments. With him fiddling with that machine, and the less than appropriate goals of the entities, it could not have been something that bodes well for their captives. At least, though, Taurek had managed to accomplish his goal of reconnoitering their camp. The fact that he was able to get more nourishment in the process was a bonus.

 

As far as he could see, he still only remained with one viable option: a mind meld. Though to have any success to even attempt it, he would have to catch one of the two off guard, without the other near to hand for assistance. Now was certainly not the time, so he would have to hold off. Though again, as per Ksander's comments, time seemed to be less than on the Vulcan's side. For now, though, he would continue to rest where he sat and monitor the situation. He was definitely not in any hurry to return to their uncomfortable camp and partake in the security officers' dreary company.

Updated.

Roughing It

Ens Taurek M.D.

 

Taurek settled down next to a small campfire and warmed himself as the stars began to sparkle above Baldos. Since being evicted by the entities, the Vulcan doctor and his comrades had steadily plodded their way to a rushing creek about six kilometers away from the main camp. There, they drank their fill and then studied the landscape, looking about for a more sheltered spot to settle for the time being. They could see, off in the distance, a rather spindly forest a few kilometers north of their current position, and it straddled the creek. Having made it there easily enough, they searched for a good area to set up a camp, and soon found it in a small clearing about 200 meters east of the creek.

 

After spending a few moments to rest, they rose again and searched for anything that would help them survive out in the wilderness. Firewood was easily had, and soon enough, as the sun set, Taurek had a fire crackling, ringed with stones from the creek-bed. There were berries, though small yet, in the low brush of the forest floor, and the doctor had deemed them fit to eat. There were various types of nuts, edible with the exception of the ones in the egg shaped shells, which, while not poisonous, would cause diarrhea. They had seen a number of squirrel type creatures bounding from tree to tree as well, and the meat-eaters amongst the group would be able to hunt and roast them. So, food and water, the two main requirements, had been met.

 

Shelter, should the weather turn nasty, would be a bit harder to manage. The entities had not permitted them to take any of the tents, though should they have, they would have been difficult for the group to manage anyway, as they were the type designed for large, semi-permanent away missions. Taurek had managed to swipe a tarp from one of the crates though, and some sort of lean-to could be fashioned if the need arose.

 

The night was already becoming cold, and though not a meteorologist by trade, and without satellites and ground data, he couldn't make a very certain forecast, but based on the passing clouds he had seen during the day and the wind shift to the north, he figured they were in for a bit of a cool spell. The dryness of the air, though, indicated that it wouldn't be wet for the time being. As a Vulcan, though, cold weather wasn't his favorite, so he was not overly amused.

 

Satisfied as well as he could be under the circumstances, he waited for Precip, Turel and Lockhart to return from their foraging and searching so that they could talk about what would come next. They had the essentials, though barely, and could survive for a while, though he certainly expected that they would lose weight and not have sufficient vitamin and mineral intake. How to survive long term, make certain that if a Starfleet or other vessel arrived that they would not only be rescued, but the danger of the entities could be contained, and get the real Huff and Ksanders back... After calculating the odds, Taurek was not optimistic.

On two of my accounts, my Display name is not the same as the login name. To get into the chat rooms before, I always had to use the login, but it didn't work for me tonight, whereas my display name did. Don't know if this is part of the upgrade, or what.

 

Update:

 

I tried it with my other names, and to log in as Sendai, which doesn't have a DN, my login worked fine getting into the rooms. The one with a DN I did have to use the DN. The "Live Chat" link from the MB works as usual, though.

Desperate Times...

Ens Taurek M.D.

 

As Dremix shouted "Let us go" Taurek could only raise an eyebrow. Such emotional outbursts were not uncommon in Vulcan youths during the beginning phases of learning the mental disciplines. As one explored the mind in the proper way, meaning letting it work on its own account, what little control a person has at that stage is not in use and strong emotion can surface. Then, embarrassment usually kicks in as does the control. It is the return journey along that pathway that leads to greater understanding of one's own mind.

 

The Vulcan doctor hoped Dremix could get something positive out of it, though based on his experiences with the security officer, he figured that Dremix would only go so far with it, not out of lack of ability but lack of interest. Starting the disciplines at that age was difficult, and only total dedication and much assistance could make it prevail. If he continued to pursue it, however, Taurek felt it could be a boon for the hybrid to help him with his Starfleet duty. That is assuming that they all didn't spend the rest of their lives, however long they lasted, on Baldos.

 

His real hope, however, is that Huff and Ksanders' presences are still intact within their bodies, and that they could hear him and begin working on the discipline as well. Without the attachment to their bodies, they certainly had the time to work on it, and the motivation to use it to regain their bodies was more than evident. Whether they would, or could, Taurek didn't know.

 

Considering his options, he was forced to concede that their chances of getting out of this situation on their own was slight. Without some help from the real Huff and Ksanders, or outside help from Starfleet, Huff would be pregnant with new hosts for these beings. Taurek would, of course, if it came to it, kill the children to keep them from being used as vessels. However, he also had another desperate plan: a mind meld.

 

While melding with a non-Vulcan is never pleasant, he was loathe to do it with Vulcans as well because of his emotional instability. Dire necessity was required before he would consider its use. He felt that dire necessity was most certainly at hand. It would certainly, if he could manage the feat, let him know if the original mind were still present under the parasitic one. It may also give him the opportunity to weaken the entity at the very least, allowing the host to resurface. At worst, he could work to disable the being. The risk to himself was great, physically, neurologically, and psychologically, but the needs of the many were paramount. If it came to it, his sacrifice would be worthwhile.

 

In the meantime, however, he had little choice but to ride the situation out for a while to see where it led. He didn't expect any progress immediately, however, for the two would be cloistered in the effort to impregnate Huff's body. He was not pleased about that, by any stretch of the imagination, but their talkativeness to each other was at least informative. While they were busy, that would give their four captives an opportunity to work on a solution. He only hoped that they understood the seriousness of the situation and were willing to give their all, perhaps literally, to save many others.

Tick Tock

Countdown to a meltdown and death

 

Ensign Taurek M.D.

 

As he allowed Precip to slump to the ground, Taurek's eyes smoldered. These delays were unacceptable. Based on the data from his scans, the infection was progressing rapidly and unpredictably; to have any chance of formulating any kind of treatment, he would have to begin studying the virus immediately. Lockhart's hysteria, Huff's pessimistic melodrama, Ksander's dismay and odd fascination with female medical personnel, and, most of all, Precip's sudden slide into homicidal/suicidal tendencies were most aggravating and time-consuming. Taurek did not have that time.

 

The results of the scans were not reassuring, though they were highly irregular. The Captain and Commander were showing signs of psychoneural hyperactivity, so he was somewhat more willing to forgive them their odd behavior. The others, however, were not showing the same signs, so their emotional reactions were troubling. With the exception of Turel, who seemed to still have his head attached properly, Taurek knew he would receive no help from the others, especially if he was forced to implement the neck-pinch anymore. He would have to study the virus under the porta-scope without further delay.

 

Deciding that enough was enough, and that in their best interests some "tough love" was necessary, he rose, gripping the phaser in one hand and the hypo full of Ksander's blood in the other. Turning to those still conscious, not bothering to hide his aggravated emotional state (though the containment suit naturally hid some of the most telltale signs), he locked onto each and every one with a very heated stare before he spoke with all of the venom an emotionally disturbed Vulcan could muster, which was plenty.

 

"The next one to disturb my work will not be concerned with the progression of the virus, for I will not be gentle." With that, he turned to Dremix and spoke more kindly, though with a tone that suggested any questions or comments would not be tolerated. "Since you are showing the least amount of symptoms and are still seemingly capable of informed thought and action, you will ensure that everyone remains seated and reasonably well behaved."

 

Not waiting for a reaction, he turned to the array of medical equipment he had recently unpacked, and began setting up a slide to inspect under the scope.

To: All U.S.S. Hood NCC-1703 Crew and Staff

From: Ensign Taurek M.D.

Subject: Starfleet Fitness Index (SFI) - Suggestions for Score Improvement

 

After reviewing your files, I have calculated that the average SFI for the crew is 76.23. While Starfleet Protocols allow a minimum SFI score of 65 (out of 100) for an individual crewmember to maintain his or her active duty status, Starfleet Medical recommends a score of 80 or higher for maximum wellness and efficiency. Since the average is below this recommendation, and many of you are nearing the cutoff line as individuals, I feel it is necessary to make available some suggestions to improve these scores.

 

 

1. Nutrition

 

1.1 Any proper diet must consist of a balanced blend of various categories. Consuming sufficient quantities of fruits and vegetables is a must; proteins are an important part of sound eating habits, and can be obtained in meats and certain legumes and fungi. While the consumption of fat in large quantities is dangerous, completely eliminating fat from one's diet is nearly impossible as well as inadvisable: the body must maintain sufficient fat stores for emergency situations and to help feed the brain, which is the most energy intensive consumer in the body. Other important nutrients can be found in foods such as dairy for those capable of consuming them. Most of all, the body must consume sufficient liquid. Plain water is the healthiest choice, the most readily available: consume at least three liters of water every day; if strenuous physical activity is undertaken, drink at least 4.5 to 5 liters.

 

1.1a Certain food items, often in the category of dessert, while pleasurable for the palate, are not the most nutritious or healthy choices. Use intelligence and moderation.

 

1.1b Some foods and beverages contain other chemicals that can upset the body's balance. Coffee, for instance, contains the stimulant caffeine. Imbibing sufficient quantities can be detrimental to health. If you find you are fond of coffee, consider switching to decaffeinated after your first 500 mL. The same holds true for many caffeinated sodas.

 

1.1bi The consumption of alcoholic beverages must be done with moderation. This recommendation is stringent for Starfleet crew, and is regulated in the Starfleet Codex as well as many ships have their own alcohol policy. (See attached)

 

1.2 Nutritional supplements can be quite helpful to maintain one's health. However, whenever possible, the proper nutrients and minerals should be obtained through proper dieting and not through pills or injections. Your physician will monitor your vitamin and mineral levels with your regular physicals, and will recommend supplements if required. Please seek guidance before you start taking any.

 

 

2. Exercise

 

2.1 While proper nutrition will set you well on your way to living healthily, your body will also require that you use it. There are a number of different exercise routines endorsed by Starfleet that were formulated by physicians at Starfleet Medical. Depending on your duties and personal preference, you can work for strength, speed, agility, or a more balanced approach. Each of us, however, has different bodies, and different limitations. It is for you to discover, with the oversight of your physician, to find that which best works for you.

 

2.2 Depending on your duties, you may receive most of your exercise while on the clock. Or, you may need to work harder on your off hours to maintain your body. Whatever the case may be, you should attempt to maximize your efforts however they come. If your duties require you to man a console in a seated position, you can still work several muscle groups in your body while you sit. Calf flexes, for example, are quite easy to do and will not interfere with your duties at station. On the other hand, if your duties are more physically straining, you should concentrate on maintaining a relaxed body, and doing less exhaustive exercises off duty.

 

2.3 Other exercises should be performed to limit potential injuries that can be sustained while on duty. If you must lift much, you should strengthen your core. For seated positions, you should stretch and make limber any appendages/digits that are used in repetitive motions. When the opportunity allows, you should do something else to relieve the strain.

 

 

3. Attitude

 

3.1 Though listed last, your attitude is the most important step to improving your fitness. Firstly, know that you can be fit and healthy. Secondly, know that, though you will struggle and occasionally lapse in your efforts, you are not alone: your fellow crew members are also working to this goal, and your physician is behind you.

 

3.2 Fitness does not mean total sacrifice. Many a Starfleet officer can achieve an SFI score of 90+, and it can be done without slashing "comfort foods" from the diet or without removing more "fun" activities from your schedule. While you must set yourself on this goal, it does not need to consume your waking life.

 

 

 

If you have any questions, concerns, ideas or recommendations, please contact me. I would much rather speak with you on ways to improve your fitness while maintaining your lifestyle before relieving you of duty than after, and would much rather see you in sickbay for conversation than medical treatment.

 

Sincerely,

 

Dr. Taurek

Emotional Push-Ups

Ensign Taurek M.D.

 

After Taurek finished filling out the necessary XD-2248 response forms, he exited the office, and then stepped through the privacy curtains around Ensign Korps' biobed. Looking down on the brain-dead man, Taurek sighed.

 

"Here was a worthy man, who is now the neurological equivalent to an amoeba," he thought. "All because of a falling weight. And before him, Ensign Muerto... Who will be next to die needlessly, not even fulfilling their "sacred duty" as LCdr Precip put it? While death is inevitable, and most often comes unlooked for, what purpose does it serve but to cause grief? Is there, as many believe, some overarching purpose to the cycle of life? Or, do we as Vulcans have the correct assertion that there is no guiding thought or purpose behind the universe?" Shaking his head, he raised his hand in the Vulcan salute.

 

"You shall not live long, or prosper anymore, Ensign. May whatever path awaits you, be it to dark oblivion or some grander place, come to you well."

 

Passing out through the curtains into sickbay, Taurek glanced at the chronometer near Dr. O'Claire's office. He saw that less time had passed than he expected. Seeing that the nurses and orderlies had restocked the supplies that they had used in the attempt to save Korps, he returned to his small office. No more than a slightly oversized broom closet, it had barely enough room to contain the small desk and the accompanying computer equipment and the squeaky swivel chair behind it. After placing himself onto the chair, which squeaked on cue, he sat there for a few moments trying to clear his thoughts.

 

Since the breakdown of his emotional control, he had studied the available materials on the V'tosh kat'ur, and began to implement some of those precepts that would assist him. Rather surprisingly, comibined with the standard Vulcan mental disciplines, he had found an inner peace that he had not known; not even before the death of T'Pak. Buoyed by it, and confident that he would be able to maintain it, he was altogether unprepared for the surge of emotion that now began to wash over him as a result of the injury to Ensign Korps. Rather than trying to repress them, as of old, he allowed them to come to the surface. Analyzing them as they worked, Taurek began to use his standard discipline to analyze them while using the new techniques to filter them so that they would not overwhelm him.

 

The level and quality of the anger he felt was a shock. That more primitive part of his psyche was railing against the universe for the injustice of the injury. Compassion welled inside him also, for all who had known the fit Ensign. Along came grief and sorrow in the emotional parade. So too came hope, though small in quantity, that something positive could happen. A fear that some innocuous item would one day come up to bite him, swam in that sea as well. None of it, however, could match the potency of the rage. Before he could stop himself, Taurek's fist slammed into the desk.

 

To regain control over his body and prevent injury to himself or damage to the room, he was forced to give the anger greater reign over his mind. Any Vulcan could easily imagine a red haze, as it was all too common on the arid planet; but for the first time in his experience, the haze was a part of him, swirling inside him in a vicious dust storm that threatened to rip the flesh from his mental form. The ways of his Vulcan upbringing demanded that he fight it; the new concepts of V'tosh kat'ur demanded that he accept it. The new Taurek, though, who was becoming a hybrid of both methodologies, chose instead to become a part of it so that he could understand it.

 

He rode that mental storm in the silence of his office for some time before the winds died down and the dust settled. As he opened his eyes, a new well of knowledge could be seen within them. His face was drawn, however, and as he studied his hands he saw that they trembled. Breathing deeply, he called upon the mediations he had learned as a youth and his body stilled after a few moments. He rested for a moment before he rose from his chair, which sqeuakily protested in its quiet way. Heading out of sickbay, he made his way to the mess hall. His body fired urgent signals to his brain that he required sustenance; the mental gymnastics had burned as many calories as his standard exercise routine, and was much more exhausting.

Personal Log

 

Ensign Taurek M.D.

 

/\ Begin Recording /\

 

Personal log, Ensign Taurek M.D.; Assistant Medical Officer, USS Hood NCC-1703

 

Enough time has passed since my emotional breakdown that I can assess my status. Since speaking with Lieutenant Sarvek, I have regained a degree of my composure. Her suggestion that I look into the V'tosh kat'ur was, albeit quite controversial from a Vulcan standpoint, still quite logical. Although information is sparse, as the Vulcan High Command long ago decided to bury the information deeply, I have managed to access a great deal, using my medical authorizations. Though that, perhaps, is a slight misuse of those authorizations; however, considering there is more at stake than my own emotional welfare, it was logical. While the deep-rooted ideals of my Surakian upbringing rebel at the thought of allowing my emotions to surface, it is quite obvious that the effects of the Tel-Tevakh are sufficient in intensity even to this day to force me to take alternative actions.

 

Both thankfully and regretfully, I have been kept quite busy since the episode. First, Captain Huff and a case of hyperglycemia. It was not surprising, with the eating habits I have observed amongst the crew, that someone would end up in sickbay with that condition. I would have expected a Starfleet Captain to have better eating discipline, however. Nonetheless, the treatment was obvious and worked perfectly. I am pleased that she seems fully willing and cooperative to change her eating habits, though she was most plainly dismayed to have to spent the night in sickbay. Perhaps that will reinforce the need to eat nutritional food. Although, if she can maintain the nutritional guidelines I have set for her, I will encourage her to have donuts, although moderation will be the key.

 

Then, not twenty minutes after releasing her from sickbay, a call came in from a hysterical ensign on the recreation deck. Dr. O'Claire, two orderlies and I rushed down and found Ensign Korps lying with his skull in obvious disrepair. Apparently, a nearby weight came loose and fell on his head as he was exercising. We brought him to sickbay, with the hysterical ensign... Knightly, I believe Dr. O'Claire called her, in tow. We were forced to place him on life-support, and we worked to decrease the intra-cranial swelling. He is now stable on the life-support, however it appears that he has only the most basic of neural functions.

 

We will wait the requisite 24 hours and reassess his neural activity. At that time, if he shows no improvement, we have the prerogative to declare him legally brain-dead. I have worked more than one case of such neural trauma, and his scans indicate that there is such a small probability of his recovering even a fraction of his brain's functioning that it could be considered practically impossible. His file contains the required release forms that allow us to remove him from life-support. However, Federation law requires us to inform the next of kin before we are allowed to do so. Via subspace radio, it would be very likely to hear a response within the fourteen day waiting period. By that time it will be absolutely evident if he has any chance to recover. While allowing a patient to die is by no means pleasant, it is logical to allow a person, who has expressed a desire not to be maintained if the chances of recovery are very remote, to decide that if the condition occurs, that he or she not be maintained. I myself have this release signed.

 

This, meanwhile, is a troubling situation. This is the second security officer to perish or be significantly injured due to head trauma since my arrival. Ensign Muerto, with the inexplicable death by a falling nut, and now Ensign Korps. Both occurred while off-duty, as well. While Starfleet studies have shown that the mortality rate among Starfleet personnel is much higher for those in security, one would expect that reclining while on shoreleave or lifting free-weights aboard a starship would not be lethal endeavors. I am forced to conclude that all security personnel should wear their tactical helmets at all times. This, of course, is not a recommendation I can actually give to anyone officially. However, it would not be a bad idea to mention it off the record to the security personnel themselves. Prevention, of course, is the best method of maintaining sound health.

 

I have also abandoned my attempts at formulating a suitable sugar substitute to use in the donuts. Again, the probability of success is so remote to be considered practically impossible. I will therefore have to use sound nutritional guidelines and urge moderation among the crew. This is not the most satisfactory of arrangements, however it is the most viable option I am left with. That will mean, of course, that it is likely I will treat other crewmembers for hyperglycemia. So long as it stops with that, without progressing towards diabetes, it will be acceptable.

 

In the meantime, I will continue with my studies of the V'tosh kat'ur, and explore my empathic abilities. That will be a time-consuming task, however. At this point I am barely able to discern the specific emotions. In time, after much toil, I should be able to do this. Also, I will work to pinpoint a specific individual's emotions and separate them from the totality. I expect those two tasks will be much simpler than the most important one: learning to live with my own emotions. As I record this log, I am feeling a great... sadness in regards to Ensign Korps. One so vital should not suffer because of such an accident.

 

To help assure the safety of others that use the recreation deck, I have informed security of the problem, and that the equipment must be checked before anyone else is allowed to use it. And rest assured, the next time I use it, I will be sure to check everything within striking distance of me.

 

/\ End Recording /\

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<title>Nutritional Meal Plan</title>

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<span class="p">TO: Head Chef, U.S.S. Hood NCC-1703</span><br />

<span class="p">CC: LCdr Katie O'Claire M.D., Cpt Huff</span><br />

<span class="p">RE: Nutritional Meal Plan:</span><br />

<br />

<span class="p">Patient: Captain Helen E. Huff</span><br />

<span class="p">Prescribed by: Ensign Taurek M.D.</span><br />

<br />

<table class="menu" cellspacing="0">

<tr>

<td class="day">Day 1</td>

<td class="meal">Dinner</td>

<td class="item">Grilled salmon with rice pilaf.</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day">Day 2</td>

<td class="meal">Breakfast</td>

<td class="item">Serving of berry medley yogurt and slice of buttered sourdough toast; orange juice</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Lunch</td>

<td class="item">Chicken salad pita with crunchy vegetables and dip</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Dinner</td>

<td class="item">Baked pork filet with vegetable medley and a whole wheat roll</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day">Day 3</td>

<td class="meal">Breakfast</td>

<td class="item">Scrambled egg whites and red bell peppers with slice of toast (1 tsp jam approved); white grape juice</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Lunch</td>

<td class="item">½ Turkey panini with a serving of baked butternut squash chips</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Dinner</td>

<td class="item">Gingered lean beef stir-fry with serving of vegetarian lo-mein</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day">Day 4</td>

<td class="meal">Breakfast</td>

<td class="item">½ bagel with butter (1 tsp jam approved); cranberry juice</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Lunch</td>

<td class="item">Beef and bean tostada covered with lettuce, tomatoes and lime-salsa</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Dinner</td>

<td class="item">Hamburger on whole wheat bun with side of unsalted baked french fries and carrots</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day">Day 5</td>

<td class="meal">Breakfast</td>

<td class="item">Bowl of shredded wheat cereal (non-frosted); decaf coffee</td>

</tr>

<tr>

 

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Lunch</td>

<td class="item">Shredded pork sandwiches on rye bread with side of steamed asparagus</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Dinner</td>

<td class="item">Chicken noodle soup with a whole wheat roll (½ amount of noodles)</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day">Day 6</td>

<td class="meal">Breakfast</td>

<td class="item">Blueberry muffin, one apple; decaf coffee</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Lunch</td>

<td class="item">Mixed greens salad with ¼ cup of preferred dressing and a whole wheat roll</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Dinner</td>

<td class="item">Thin crust cheese pizza with side of crunchy vegetables and dip</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day">Day 7</td>

<td class="meal">Breakfast</td>

<td class="item">French toast covered with unsweetened strawberry and banana slices; decaf coffee</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Lunch</td>

<td class="item">1 Chicken fajita with a side of black beans and rice</td>

</tr>

<tr>

<td class="day2"> </td>

<td class="meal">Dinner</td>

<td class="item">Grilled tuna steak with a lemon caper sauce, side of vegetable medley and a whole wheat roll</td>

</tr>

</table>

<br />

<span class="p">Notes:</span><br />

<br />

<span class="p">Chef: Low-fat cooking methods are to be used. Due to the patient's sodium levels, salt is to be used sparingly. Long-grain rice is preferred, more especially wild rice. If your present inventory does not allow for a certain ingredient, use the next closest item you have in stock that is within 25% of the original item's Federation Nutritional Index guidelines. Should the patient request dessert, provide a serving of fresh fruit. I would also be most pleased to see these items on the menu for the rest of the crew.</span><br />

<br />

<span class="p">Huff: The menu is to be strictly adhered to. Caffeinated beverages are off-limits. Donuts are off-limits. Should you require a snack in-between meal-times, you may have a ½ serving of cheese, fruit, or vegetables. Please speak with me if you have any questions or alternate ideas.</span><br />

<br /><br />

<span class="p">Ensign Taurek M.D.</span><br />

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Taylor Mercy Hospital, Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

6 years ago

 

Taurek walked through Taylor Mercy Hospital in Shi'Kahr after a long shift in the Emergency Room. A shuttle carrying a group of human tourists had crashed on approach to the landing port. Having done his best, he had been able to save four of the seven patients that he was directly responsible for. The other three were too far gone by the time they had arrived, so he left it to others to ease their pain before the end. Then he had spent the better part of two hours moving between patients at a frenetic pace.

 

Doctors skilled in human and other alien physiology were rare on Vulcan. The other species seldom imported their physicians to the arid planet, and Vulcans even more rarely produced those with that expertise. Taurek was quite unusual in that, but the death of his bond-mate T'Pak had pushed him even further into his calling to heal whomsoever needed it.

 

He had been far too busy during the last few hours to think of her, however now that he was finished and preparing to head home, the memories of her, and her death, pushed into his mind. She had also died in a shuttle accident, and the similarities between that old incident and the recent were quite obvious. One of the women who died displayed some of the most acute pain that Taurek had ever seen in his medical career, and though with his duties pressing he didn't allow it to affect him at the time, it slashed at him now, bringing up the shared memories of T'Pak's death that he had shared with her through their bond-link, nearly to his own death.

 

Quickly diverting his course to a small meditation room, he shut himself in and collapsed on the firm cot at the back. The memory of pain, etched permanently in his mind, rose to the surface and he was forced to re-live those horrible moments once again. Thankfully, no memory could hold the same power of a present event so that there was no danger to his already damaged mind; however it ripped at his emotions, normally buried sufficiently enough for him to function in Vulcan society.

 

T'Pak's screaming merged with his own in his mind. The pleas for assistance, the affirmations of love that no Vulcan could admit to openly, no matter how much it festered in hiding beneath the often cold control, these replayed in his mind. The wrenching pain of the memory death, both physical and emotional, played out as he shivered and writhed on the narrow cot. As it ended, he lay there shuddering.

 

It took another hour and a half of meditation before he could leave the small room and return home, where he had no appetite, but ate because it was logical.

Flash Flood Warning

 

Ensign Taurek M.D. & Lieutenant Sarvek

 

Sarvek sat at her station on the Bridge, maintaining some semblance of composure through her befuddlement regarding the command team. Surely they were simply excited from the prospect of seeing Earth again. Yes, that was most likely it.

 

A few stray sounds from the direction of the turbolift caught her ear, causing the Vulcan to turn, eyebrow elevated. There was the donut cart... again... but without its accompanying chatter, for once. Fascinating...

 

Taurek emerged onto the bridge, huffing a bit after pulling the donut cart out of the turbolift. He looked at Sarvek and spoke, emotion clearly carrying in his voice. "This machine has disobeyed a direct order, and I have deactivated it." After breathing deeply for a moment, he continued. "I require some assistance in an... emotional matter." Obviously uncomfortable with his agitation, his hands clenched as he stood there. "Your help would be most appreciated."

 

Eyebrow remaining raised, she blinked a few times. "An emotional matter," she repeated, nodding slightly. "Of course. I would be willing to lend any assistance required." She glanced at the disobedient -- and deactivated -- little cart, for an instant contemplating the rest of the crew's reaction to its non-operation. "And, I believe that device can remain there," she paused, motioning to a clear area to the left of the left, "for the time being."

 

Nodding, Taurek flashed a most vile glare at the cart before mastering himself again, momentarily. He moved the cart over to the area indicated, and then stood back from it. His right eye twitched a few times as his whole body shuddered. The demands of control evident in his voice, he spoke: "Whatever you can do would be..." He paused again, tamping down panic. "Of great service."

 

She glanced to the helmsman, seemingly lost in his own little world, before looking back to Taurek. "I will do what I can," she offered, lowering her eyes slightly in a brief show of respect.

 

With his hands continuing to clench and unclench at his sides, he let out a soft but anguished "Thank you." He remained still for a moment, exercising all of his abilities to bring himself under some semblance of control. "I will take the... cart down to engineering where it can be... reprogrammed. I will then remove myself to my quarters. Should I lose control, it would be logical," he said, and then a chuckle burst out of him. "To damage my own belongings and not endanger anyone."

 

A nod. "If you wish, I can join you in roughly fifteen minutes, when I go off-shift."

 

"That would be sufficient," he replied. Striding over to the cart, he none too gently maneuvered it back into the lift, heading for engineering.

 

Sarvek straightened as he left, slowly tapping her fingers along the communications board. Curioser and curioser, things became. If it wasn't a captain who acted like she'd never tasted a donut before, or a talking supplier of said pastries... Fascinating.

 

***

 

Taurek paced his quarters impatiently. Since he had rather brusquely dropped the donut cart off in engineering with a clipped "It is broken," his grip over his emotions had continued to slip. As the chime at his door sounded, he stumbled over and pressed the button, opening it. "Enter!"

 

The communications officer stepped in, raising her hand in the traditional gesture. "Good evening, Doctor," she greeted with an incline of the head.

 

Returning the gesture shakily, he nodded. Wearily taking a seat at the small table in the corner of his quarters, and his body trembling with the war between logic and emotion creating shockwaves in his body, he sighed and then gestured Sarvek to follow. "Are you familiar with the effects of the Tel-Tevakh (The Bonding Death)?"

 

"Of course -- when one's bondmate becomes deceased, a telepathic link to the dying can cause a sort of feedback reaction to the living person," she recited from knowledge. An eyebrow raised. "Do you, perhaps, suffer from the syndrome?"

 

"Yes. It was a close thing, that I survived. T'Pak..." Grief crept into his voice. "My beloved T'Pak... it was a shuttle crash. The agony was horrible, for each of us. She was very gifted psionically, the bond was very strong." Taurek shook his head as tears streamed down his cheeks.

 

"After much rehabilitation, I have managed to live normally, unlike others who have not died. However, I am now a third level empath, and the weight of the emotions pressing on me from these humans..." Shivering, he looked at Sarvek deploringly. "I am lost."

 

A fascinating quagmire. "Have you attempted any methods of strengthening your mental shields?"

 

"Indeed." Taurek's anguish was palpable as he clutched onto the remnants of his control. "I was taught various methods, and I have exhausted them all, to little avail." Shuddering again, he swiped the tears from his face in annoyance.

 

"Logic is the cement of our civilization with which we ascend from chaos, using reason as our guide," he chanted softly. The statement on logic semed to help him a little. "Forgive me. This display must be most troubling to you."

 

"Not at all," she reassured, shrugging slightly. "You have no reason to be concerned... I've worked with similiar afflictees in the past, on Seleya."

 

At the mention of Seleya, Taurek's right eyebrow rose slightly. He looked at Sarvek, and nodded. "My surmise was correct, then, and you are a preistess."

 

"Low-level, but yes, I have been instructed in the disciplines required for the position to be attained."

 

"As you may be able to imagine, I have some experience," he said, unable to completely hide a defeated smile in the process. "Both through my medical maladies and training."

 

She pursed her lips, thinking. "How thoroughly have you tested your empathic abilities?"

 

Taurek shook his head. "Very little. I was advised not to, at least until I could manage my condition. Though it has been twelve years, and I have made much progress, it is quite obvious that I have far still to go."

 

"Perhaps further exploring the abilities is your problem to begin with. Do you feel any apprehension towards using the abilities that you have?"

 

"That," he said with a harsh chuckle, "is an understatement. We Vulcans strive to control our emotions. It is not an action undertaken lightly to actively explore those of others that we receive. It is a process I am wary of, because I am not sure I can control my own responses to it."

 

"Perhaps..." She hesitated. "It is not orthodox, but some of the V'tosh kat'ur have studied techniques of keeping emotion in check, while still balancing in logic. Until you can completely regain control, perhaps it would be a wise measure to study some of their work."

 

"Had that been proposed yesterday, I would have rejected it immediately. However, I cannot function like this." Sighing, Taurek paused and studied his hands for a moment. "If I cannot find some sort of balance, I will be forced to disembark and return to Vulcan."

 

"That would be something of a shame," she remarked. "After all, it is beneficial for the crew to have a doctor looking out for their carbohydrate addictions." She sighed, slightly. "It is all about balance, in a way. When I joined Starfleet, I was most interested in becoming a kohlinahru, and expensed much energy in pursuit of attaining that goal. But being among emotional beings in such tight quarters necessitated that I relax those precepts and ambitions somewhat to fit into their environment with more ease." Barely shrugging, she raised an eyebrow. "Humor is one example. Adjusting some of my dietary habits is another. I believe you have a similar situation, if in a more pronounced level."

 

"Surak said: 'Wide experience increases wisdom, provided the experience is not sought purely for the stimulation of sensation.' It is ironic that the stimulation of sensation is a wide experience that I must endure."

 

"Perhaps you should be more open to it than not," she suggested. "You've been given the capability, after all. Use it to the best of your ability. And as a doctor, it could be of eventual use."

 

"That is all that I can do, seemingly. It is logical, although I will freely admit that it frightens me. However, Surak also said: 'Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear.' So, perhaps, if I can conquer fear while maintaining a truce with the other emotions, both mine and others, I can pass through this trial."

 

Leaning back into his chair, Taurek studied the communications officer for a moment. "Although I will also prescribe a mild sedative for myself if I have a similar... wild state."

 

"A wise precaution," she agreed. "Be mindful that the outside emotions are not your own, either, but those belonging to others. Do not hold yourself responsible for them."

 

"Indeed, Liuetenant. However..." He paused, collecting the proper words. "Though my descent into this state was inevitable, something... While the donut cart was quite the annoyance, it should not have been sufficient to push me into this condition. I felt very strong emotion, and it was not that which I usually feel. Though where it originated I cannot say, not having the ability yet to selectively discern the emotions I receive. Are you aware of any reason a member or members of this crew should feel great... joy?"

 

"The upcoming arrival at Earth? It's a definite possibility. Though..." Her voice trailed off as she paused, choosing not to mention the still-odd incident on the Bridge. "Though it could be one of many possibilities," the Vulcan woman amended.

 

Taurek noted Sarvek's change of direction, but elected not to pursue it, knowing that she would have mentioned it if there had been a logical reason to do so. He nodded.

 

"I feel it still, though its intensity has subsided somewhat. Perhaps, instead of using meditation as a means of discarding these emotional impulses as I usually do, I shall concentrate on understanding them, and then dissect my own emotional reactions to them."

 

"That sounds reasonable. I'd be interested in hearing your results."

 

"I shall make them known to you," he said with a bemused chuckle. "Assuming I ever figure it out." He rose, then bowed. "I am grateful for your assistance in this matter."

 

Standing herself, she gave a small nod. "If there is any way I might be able to lend an ear, or a hand, let me know."

 

"I will, thank you," Taurek said. Though still torn up inside, the calm, logical presence of the female Vulcan and her advice had given him the foothold he needed to survive the flood. For that is how, in his mind's eye, he imagined the emotional overload: a rushing wall of water attempting to engulf him. Rather than try to escape or build a flood-wall, however, he would now try to flow with the tide.

 

"Lieutenant, I hope that at some point we may partake of each other's company in a more recreational manner," he said, some of the lines of worry now absent from his face, though even to a non-Vulcan, the story of emotions could be read on it. He had no doubts that they were as clear as his pointed ears to Sarvek.

 

"Of course. And perhaps you could conduct some research on the differing flavors of various pastries during our next meeting. Fascinating work, I assure you."

 

Nothing could hold back the beaming smile on his face, nor did he even try to fight it, this time. He raised his hand in the Vulcan way. "Live long and prosper, Liuetenant."

 

"Peace and long life," she replied, mirroring the gesture.

 

Taurek saw Sarvek to the door, and then turned to his storage tote after she left, extracting the Vulcan port. He figured that would be sedative enough for the night, as he settled in to meditate. Research could wait until morning.

Chemistry at Work

Ensign Taurek M.D.

 

/\ Begin Recording /\

 

My first effort at creating a suitable replacement donut for the crew has failed. I approached Lieutenant Sarvek, and she assisted me by sampling one from the first batch. She confirmed the lack of proper sweet taste that I had noticed in my own sampling. Therefore, I must return to the lab and begin working on another variation for the sugar substitute.

 

After looking at the history of said enterprise, many of the most obvious and attainable molecular combinations have been tried, and do not match. In fact, many are high to very-high intensity sweeteners, and some are not even stable at temperatures above 60°. And those that are most suitable taste-wise, often have other unfortunate side-effects, such as maltitol: consumed in sufficient quantity (which this crew no doubt would were I to use it) it causes gastrointestinal difficulties such as gas, bloating, and also acts as a laxative. Also, texture, which is as important to the human sense of taste as the quality and nature of sweetness, can be difficult to achieve in comparison to standard sucrose.

 

Most promising has been C5H12O5, otherwise known as xylitol. Most like sugar in sweetness, this "wood sugar" can be used in baking, and was quite popular during the early 21st Century. However, in baked goods, many have complained about the distinct difference in taste from sucrose. I have rejected fructose, as well. Though it would cut down on calorie intake, the levels that the crew would ingest at their current donut-consumption level would lead to adverse uric acid levels, and would interfere with protein by glycation. No monosachharide is suitable for this application.

 

Which, unfortunately, leaves few unexplored options. There are a finite number of non-toxic carbohydrates achievable, and most of those are starches rather than sweeteners. What few are left to attempt I will. I do, however, realize that failure is not only a possibility, but a probability. After calculation, I have deemed only a 21.76% chance of success. Should the likely probability of failure indeed come to pass, I must then try other options. First, I shall prescribe more intensive exercises for any afflicted patients. However, if that is unsuccessful, any patient that exceeds healthy glucose levels shall be placed on a strict diet. That, however, would adversely affect morale, and certainly would not endear me to the patient. Therefore, I shall continue this endeavor even with the likelihood of failure, hoping that I shall succeed. Morale on a starship is as important as general physical health.

 

In an aside, I found the process of creating the donuts to be as precise in execution as any chemistry experiment. Rolling the dough was also a suitable upper arm exercise. All in all, I found it quite relaxing. However, for my next batch, I shall probably import a small oven into the medical lab, with Dr. O'Claire's permission. While the modifications to the existing lab equipment were suitable, it is not efficient to modify them on and off continuously. And, no doubt, if I should succeed, Dr O'Claire would not mind having a near-to-hand source for the finished product.

 

/\ End Recording /\

Waste Disposal

Ensign Taurek M.D.

 

Taurek sat up in his bed and then opened his eyes.After two hours of meditation, he had yet to achieve his accustomed emotional equilibrium, and it disturbed him. Also, that it disturbed him disturbed him further. Rising from his bed, he strode over to his small closet and extracted two exercise jumpsuits. He slipped out of his meditation robe, then quickly fitted himself into one of the jumpers, and neatly placed the other into a small bag. Exiting his quarters, he worked his way to the aft section of the deck and then entered the recreation area.

 

Starting out on a mat, he began stretching, and then after a few minutes, he moved over to a treadmill. He started with a quick walking stride, but soon had the machine whirring at a near sprint. He held this pace for a good fifteen minutes before he began winding it back down. Sweat poured down his face as he shut the treadmill off and stepped down from it. He was not done, however. After taking some restorative gulps of water, he moved over to the weightlifting area. Pushing himself, he did squats, curls, extensions, dips, rows, chin-ups, shrugs, lifts, crunches, raises, bends, and lunges. Every muscle that could be worked, Taurek worked. Over an hour later, he put down his last weight.

 

As he finished, his muscles ached and throbbed, sweat sluiced down his body, his jumpsuit soaked. Parsimoniously sipping a medically formulated drink, he made his way to the locker room and showered. After toweling off, he slipped into the extra jumpsuit he brought, and then made his way back to his quarters. Once he entered in, he slipped back out of the jumper and once again put on his meditation robe. Before he returned to the bed, however, he knelt down before his storage trunk and extracted a narrow, tapered green-glass bottle and a matching cup. He poured some of the liquid into the cup, and drank. Only then did he return to his bed. He laid down on his back, brought his hands on his chest and placed together the fingers from both like a steeple.

 

He quickly passed through the opening stages of the meditation: slowing the heart rate; controlled, even breaths; inducing low frequency theta brainwaves. Then, in his mind, a scene emerged: the hot, reddish brown vista of Vulcan. The city of Shi'Kahr rose to its heights off in the distance, but all around is primarily the desert, except around Taurek. Surrounding him are bits and pieces of garbage, and one garbage receptacle. Each scattered piece of waste represents an emotion, and each is labeled accordingly. Bending down, he grabbed one, labeled "Frustration". Calmly, he placed it in the receptacle. Next, was "Happiness". He continued about this for a few moments, and then came once again to the donut that had plagued his first attempt. He grasped it, and threw it away. When it did not reappear, he turned around and grabbed a piece of waste labeled "Relief" and placed it in the can. Looking around, the desert floor was clean once again.

 

His mind passed from the desert scene into a stark, quiet white room. His mind loitered there, absorbing the purity while it lasted, before color and noise returned and plunged him back into the hot desert.