Samantha_Kent

I wish I could quit you...

Welcome to STSF, Skip. Hope you have a fantastic time playing here with us. :huh: Bear in mind that you don't need to worry about a biography until after you have graduated our academy system; each Academy game is only an hour long and they don't follow continuing plotlines, so you won't need to write a bio or worry about a continuing character until after you graduate and can join an advanced simulation. Feel free to ask around if you have any questions. :P We're a friendly bunch. See you in the sims!

::grins:: Doesn't it? It was one of the reasons I was excited about the car. You know you're a geek when... ((And now we know where Kansas gets her Academy plots! :-P ))

I had a VERY bizarre dream last night involving the end of the world, my 1988 red Nissan Pulsar, and a group of refugees from the apocalypse including several cast members from Battlestar Galactica, several STSF Shore Leave attendees, and myself hefting a large shotgun a la "Half-Life" and blowing away evil aliens who looked like extremely beautiful women with dark flowing hair. My subconscious must be a very interesting place.

Whooo...happy birthday, Random! :huh:

You know, there's a spoiler tag for a reason.

::just spent like ten minutes trying to figure out how you did the little dot thing in the date, and still hasn't managed it:: :/

::laughs:: I am not so easily frightened... ...I think. :huh:

Among other things. :huh:

I am in such a phenomenally good mood right now and don't foresee the high being killed until at least next Monday. Wheeeeeeeeee!

Well, Will's hit you with his list of links, so that should hopefully get you started. :huh: Also, you can check out the transcripts of the Academy training games for new players and the Advanced games for players who have graduated the academy -- http://www.stsf.net/forums/index.php?showforum=64 . Come to the Academies (the schedule is listed HERE) and the GMs and other players will help you get used to how the game works in short individual one-hour sessions, and from there you'll be able to join an advanced game with a continuous storyline. Hope this helps. :P

Welcome to STSF, Simon! Hope you have a great time RPing and chatting here! :P Feel free to ask around if you have any questions...we're a friendly group. :huh:

Caroline eased herself quietly back through the doors of Debbie's office carrying a hypospray of the drug which she had proposed to offer Schawnsee as part of her treatment plan. It was a cocktail of an antidepressant, a standard treatment for chemical imbalance, and a mild sedative -- not enough to knock the CSEC out but enough to relax her. Schawnsee had been displaying enough paranoia for three women and though the drugs, on their own, were not going to be a complete treatment for what she was going through, Caroline hoped that they might perhaps take the edge off her tension and make life easier for everyone involved. For now, though, Schawnsee was curled up in the corner; she had begun to cry in an explosive emotional release and Deb had taken up a position next to her with an arm around her. Caroline remained as quiet as she could as she entered the room; Schawnsee had already expressed a pretty definite distrust for the psychologist and Caroline did not want to overwhelm her with more than she could handle. Silently, she cast Deb a questioning look, her eyes moving with an expression of concern to the CSEC and then back to the other physician, and proffered the full hypospray at her with a faint shrug. Debbie carefully used her free arm to reach out toward Caroline and take the hypospray from her hand. Under routine circumstances, she would have allowed Dr. Curtis to administer the drugs. But these were anything but 'routine circumstances.' Kat clearly distrusted the psychiatrist. It was only exacerbate the situation for Caroline to come much closer to the security chief....at least for now. Never in her wildest dreams did the CMO expect to see Schawnsee in this condition....not after everything the security chief had been through during her career. If it was this painful for Deb to watch, she could only imagine what Angel was going through. And what about Kat? The demons tormenting her were relentless. Deb was almost certain Schawnsee hadn't slept a full night in weeks. She sincerely hoped there was a sedative included in the drug cocktail she was about to push into Kat's neck. But she'd wait until later to ask. "I promise you, Kat," whispered Deb, turning slightly toward the sobbing woman. "Everything will be okay. We'll fix this....I swear to you....we'll fix it." She glanced momentarily at Caroline and then quickly pressed the hypospray to Schawnsee's neck. She didn't hesitate once the small instrument was in position. Pushing the little button, she heard the hypospray release the drugs, forcing them through the skin and into Kat's bloodstream. Glancing at Caroline, she tossed the hypospray back to her while tightening her grip on the security chief not knowing what to expect next. Kat was crying heavily. She had a mix of feelings running through her head. She heard the hypospray release its contents into her neck and slowly looked up to Deb and then Dr Curtis. As she felt the sedative begin its work on her, she grabbed Deb's hand tighter than she had ever done before. She then looked back at Deb, tears running down her face and said, "Doc don't let them hurt me, please? I'm scared." She then began to fade slightly, releasing the tightness on Deb's hand. She then began to sink more to the floor. The sedative may not have been a strong one but Schawnsee was very susceptible to drugs and it didn't take much to put her almost out. She was now more in a state that a person would be if she were on a truth serum. She was not totally asleep but she wasn't awake either. Her body was limp. She could barely open her eyes. She was indeed fighting to try to remain awake. Caroline let out a slow breath as Deb released the drugs into Kat's system. She didn't much like administering treatment this way; she tried to avoid dispensing drugs willy-nilly as part of her approach to psychological problems as a general rule anyway and this situation was even stranger than normal. She let herself settle again against the corner of Deb's desk and ran a hand down her face before looking at Deb questioningly. "Is she still awake?" she asked quietly. The drug had not been calculated to incapacitate Kat, merely to relax her, but she had gone over like a felled tree with the sudden tension release. The CMO shook her head. "She's asleep and that's okay," she replied, glancing up at Caroline. The psychiatrist's expression was one of both relief and concern. "I was hoping you'd included a sedative," continued Deb with a sigh. "She probably hasn't slept in weeks." Schawnsee was trying to fight the sedative but finally gave in to it. She let out a soft, relaxing sigh and drifted off to a more relaxed state. She could still hear the voices but they seemed father away than before. She loosened her grip even more on Deb's hand, her own hand falling to the ground as her knees weakened and she sat completely on the floor, legs sliding out from under her. Her head now rested on Deb's shoulder. Debbie leaned back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, allowing herself a moment or two to catch her breath. "I would love to send her home but under the circumstances...." She paused as she thought about Kat's plea not to let them hurt her. The woman was convinced she was living in an artificial reality....a realty created and manipulated by the Romulans....and Kat was terrified. Allowing her to wake up in her own quarters would certainly help relax her but she really needed the supervision available only in Sickbay. Deb again met Caroline's gaze. "I think it's safer to keep her here....at least for a day or two....until the drugs kick in and she shows improvement....any degree of improvement. What's your opinion?" Caroline nodded. "Yes,...if we can make her comfortable here...to be honest I'm not sure she'd trust her own quarters more than she trusts anything else on this ship." She let her head drop forward and rubbed her forehead with the heels of her hands. A feeling of sudden frustration went through her that this case had been allowed to get to this point. She didn't know what she could have done differently but nevertheless she felt responsible when a patient showed a downturn while under her care. Things were far from irreparable at this point, of course, or at least she hoped so; she just hated seeing this woman so miserable and watching her initial attempts to help seeming so ineffective. "You're right about her not trusting her quarters." Debbie spoke softly as though concerned she might awaken the drugged security officer on the floor beside her. "After her exam, she said she wanted to be alone.....asked if she could go to the isolation ward." The CMO closed her eyes and sighed again. "I suppose we could accommodate her. There's nobody in isolation right now," she added sadly. "She has taken this much harder than anyone else on the ship," Caroline said after a few second's silence, looking back up, her expression tired but back to its usual calm. "I don't know how much she tends towards this sort of reaction under general circumstances or if this is somewhat unique in her history...in either case we will have to tread relatively carefully. I hope that the opportunity to relax will allow her to look at things a little more objectively, that the rest will reduce some of the paranoia which may be stemming from her own subconscious understanding that she is not fit to work or defend herself. Beyond that...as she grows more comfortable I will continue to talk to her. And..." Her voice trailed off and she looked at Deb somewhat apologetically. "I believe you should as well...she seems to trust you as much as anyone on this ship; in the early stages of this, your presence will be important." Her concerned expression shifted its focus onto Deb's appearance now as the physician leaned herself back against the wall; she looked as worn by all of this as Caroline felt. "How are you holding up?" she asked more quietly, taking the opportunity afforded by the lull of Kat's sedation to check in with her coworker. They were going to be doing a lot of work before this was all over. "I'm baffled by all of this." The answer to Caroline's question was made without hesitation or any serious thought. Deb really was bewildered...not only by Kat's reaction but by her own confounding behavior. She tapped her comm badge and ordered a gurney brought to her office before continuing her discussion with Caroline. "I've suffered through my own doubts since our encounter with the Romulans," said Deb in a quiet voice. She nodded toward their sleeping patient. "But I can't relate to what she's going through." Looking intently at Dr. Curtis, the CMO drew a couple of deep breaths. "I'm her doctor and her friend. I'll do whatever is necessary to help her through this. But, to be honest with you, it is a little unnerving. Don't get me wrong. I don't believe we're living in an elaborate reality created by the Romulans. I really don't. But life has be so....unsettled since the last mission. It's hard to put into words. It's like...it's as though my skin doesn't fit quite right." She smiled wryly. "And Kat is feeling it a thousand times worse than I am. She's always been so level headed...a truly grounded person. To see her like this....well....like I said...it's unnerving." "Everyone occasionally reaches a point...where they have to stop and take stock again of where and who they are," Caroline said slowly, deciding that the term 'breaking point' might not be the most reassuring descriptor in the current situation. "Both of you have every right to still be working through that point...it's just a matter of making things as comfortable as possible during the process, for everyone involved." The conversation was interrupted as Grace Allen and two corpsmen arrived. The carefully scooped up Kat and gently placed her on the gurney, covering her with a light blanket. "Take her to isolation," ordered Deb as she pushed herself to her feet. "She's not contagious or anything like that. She needs privacy right now and that's about as private a place as we can provide." Waiting until the patient had been taken away, Debbie stepped over to her desk and settled against it. She looked at Caroline who was less than a meter away. "This is one heck of a mess," she muttered. "Maybe I'll work through my own uncertainties as we help Kat deal with hers." Caroline smiled faintly. 'One heck of a mess' was the most accurate and honest description she had heard offered for this situation since she had come aboard. "I have no doubt you will," she said, reaching over to lay her hand reassuringly for a moment against Deb's shoulder. There was clearly more on Deb's mind than just the difficulty of Kat's position and Caroline didn't want her to feel that just because Kat's condition was overtly more serious that Caroline's attention was distracted from everything else. "And if you'd like to talk again about other things than Kat, you know you have only to ask." Twisting her neck as if to work a kink out of it, she stood up and moved across the office, looking out into the main bay as the medtechs disappeared into isolation with the gurney. "Have someone let me know when she starts coming out from under the sedation and at that point...I guess we'll see how it goes from there."

I've always enjoyed mine.

Isn't that always the case though? :huh:

Simon wandered down the hallway, not exactly aimless. He had meant to see Counselor Curtis for at least a day but he had always found excuses not to. It was obvious he had problems coping with the situation, not that he'd ever openly admit it, but he didn't want to talk about it either, especially not to a complete stranger. The group therapy session had caused him quite some distress because he had no intention whatsoever to reveal his feelings in front of his crewmates. But he had alwaqys found excuses not to go there either. That was something he was good at, having practiced making excuses most of his life. Now he was standing in front of Curtis' office, not sure whether he should ring the chime or not. Caroline stepped out of the turbolift on the science deck where her temporary office was located, and came to an abrupt halt as she saw a young man standing in front of her office door. He was tall-ish, a bit slender and gawky, with a boyish face that made him look about 16 despite the uniform and non-com rank pin that placed him at the age of at least 19 or 20. He bore the uncertain expression of a man talking himself out of something -- not an expression Caroline was unfamiliar with in the slightest. "Can I help you?" she asked, approaching him from the side as she walked towards her office. Simon jumped as he heard the voice. He hadn't heard the woman approach. Silently chiding himself for taking so long to make up his mind, he turned around and desperately tried to find an explanation for his being here except the obvious reason that he wanted to talk to the Counselor. "I'm...euh...not sure," he said reluctantly, trying to buy himself some time. Caroline smiled; the young man was clearly nervous. There were no obvious outward signs to tell her whether he had been one of the "survivors" who had seen the Reaent blow up, but she doubted he would be here if he didn't want to talk about *something*; she hadn't been aboard long enough to be engendering social calls. "Well, why don't you come in while you decide?" she said, laying a hand on his shoulder before moving past him into the office and walking towards the replicator. "Can I get you something to drink?" "I...euh...." Simon was still stammering helplessly, not really able to come up with a reason to decline her invitation. After all, Curtis had found him standing in front of her office. Why else would he be here if not to talk to her? So he entered the office behind her and looked aropund curiously. "Wow, this is smaller than my quarters," he said with a grin, feeling exceedingly uneasy. He felt sweat running down his back and his hands were clammy. What on Earth was wrong with him? "Yes, well, it's better than working in the cargo bays," Curtis said with a chuckle, trying to put the young man at his ease. "Please, have a seat." She gestured at one of the chairs in the small office. He had not answered her question about a drink, so she ordered herself a coffee and a small glass of ice water for him, setting it on the front edge of her desk where he could reach it if he wanted. She then moved to her own chair and settled into it. "I'm Caroline Curtis, by the way," she said. He probably knew that, of course, but an introduction worked as well as anything else for an icebreaker. "What's your name, Petty Officer?" Watching Curtis get the drinks Simon wondered whether he was supposed to say anything. Well, now there was a question he could answer without revealing too much. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm Simon Ljungberg." He smiled again to hide his insecurity. "I'm not sure I should be here, though." "And why's that?" Caroline asked, relaxing back in her seat with her coffee mug and looking at him with a casually interested expression. This one would be very easy to put on the defensive; it would take some careful maneuvering to speak to him in a way that would be helpful. He shrugged, looking down at his hands lying in his lap. "I'm not sure I have anything to talk about, really," he said without ever looking up. Caroline looked at his bowed head thoughtfully for a moment. "Well, everyone has something to talk about," she said slowly, deciding that the oblique approach might be the most sound in this situation. "Can you tell me a little about yourself? What is your position on the ship?" She was still working her way through the personnel files from Reaent and had not yet tackled all of the non-commissioned officers and crewmen yet. Another question that was easy to answer. Maybe it wasn't so bad being here after all. "I'm a med tech in sickbay. Most of the time I check the medical stocks and equipment, I replicate stuff and sometimes I get to do physicals or assist the doctors." He shrugged again, not knowing what else to say about his job. "I guess I kinda like it," he added. "Reminds me of the medical internships back on Earth," Caroline said pleasantly, letting the conversation continue to drift semi-aimlessly. "How long have you been aboard the Reaent?" "Some time, I was on medical leave for a while and then came back." Finally simon looked up, trying to see Curtis' reaction to his revelation that he had been on medical leave for a few months. Caroline felt the scrutiny, though her relaxed expression did not change. "I'm glad to hear it wasn't anything permanent...are you glad to be back?" She could look up the exact details of his leave in his file later if she had to. "I guess, I mean Doctor Matthews was really great and she gave me the opportunity to think about it and find out if I really wanted to come back. And I did want to but..." His voice trailed off. Now they were getting somewhere where he wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to go. One of Caroline's eyebrows twitched slightly higher but otherwise she did her best not to show any abrupt response to this sudden change in Simon's tone. "But...?" she asked. Again, he only shrugged. Now he really had to think before answering. "I mean, you know, there was this mission where I got injured and now this," Simon explained, hoping Curtis wouldn't ask any further. "The Proxima mission, you mean?" "Well, yeah, more like the way it ended, though." Simon had half a mind to get up and tell the Counselor he had some important business to take care of but he felt that would be too obvious. So he just sat there and kept staring at his hands. Well, they'd made their way around to it...now to get the specifics. "And...how did it end for you?" Caroline asked carefully. Which of the two Reaent groups he'd been in made something of a difference in how she would want to approach him. Simon looked up, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and trepidation. For a second he thought she was really asking him what had happened but then it dawned on him that Curtis probably didn't know whether he'd been one of the "survivors" or not. "I saw the ship explode from the escape pod and picked up by Romulans and I was sure they'd either torture me to death or send me to a labour camp or something like that." Ahh...yes. He had been one of those who had seen the destruction of his ship. "And then you ended up back here..." she said, the tone of the comment open, letting him elaborate from there as he saw fit. Simon only nodded. That was how it had been. He deliberately left out a few details. Like how he'd felt knowing most of his friends had died. Or the feeling of losing the only home he actually had. "Yeah, I ended up back here. So, everything's alright, right?" He looked expectantly at the Counselor, half hoping she'd say yes and half hoping she'd say it was ok for hiom to feel the way he did. But that was the question. He wasn't sure how he felt. "Well, you tell me," Caroline said with a noncommittal shrug, hoping to draw him out. She could see the question in his eyes but it was not one she could answer for him. She could only get him to examine his own answers. "Does everything feel all right?" He frowned. What kind of question was that? "No, it doesn't," Simon said with a hint of anger in his tone. "I wouldn't be here if it did. It sucks!" He started kicking the leg of his chair with his heel. "I mean one moment we're there, and the next we're...here and they don't believe we're really us and ...you knowm, what am I supposed to think? Nothing really happened, right? So why even feel bad about it? I mean noone died so what's the big deal!" There it was. Good; this was progress. "Who don't believe you're really you?" Caroline said, deciding to take this one bit at a time. "Not now," Simon shook his head. She didn't understand him. "I mean they took us to sickbay for physicals and to make sure we were who we said we were and all." "Ah...of course..." Caroline said, and nodded. "And you're concerned because you think this shouldn't be bothering you?" "Yeah exactly. I mean what's the big deal? But still..." Simon let his voice trail off again. "I'm not alright," he added hardly above a whisper. Caroline felt a throb of sympathy. The new officers like Anna had seemed young enough but this poor kid...he couldn't be more than twenty, if that, and to go through something like this... "You're hardly alone in that," she said, all the carelessness dropping from her manner, fixing her eyes on his. "You've been through an experience the likes of which most people never even dream of. It would be strange if it hadn't shaken you. If you hadn't reacted." Simon raised an eyebrow at that. "So that's what you call it now...'reacted'," he scoffed, certain that it had been a bad idea to come here after all. He knew his response was probably getting him into trouble again but he didn't care. He wasn't sure she was taking him seriously. Caroline said nothing for a moment, letting him huff a little bit. "Simon...I'm being completely serious," she said when she could catch his eye again. "I don't know exactly what you're going through, what you're feeling...I'd love for you to tell me, so that we can talk about it. But what I mean is that you certainly don't need to feel bad for not feeling like life is exactly the same as it was before. Like things are completely normal." Simon was still furious. It felt good to take his anger out on someone even if Curtis was not to blame for anything that had happened lately. "And how is talking going to help me?" he asked defiantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and shooting a challenging glance at the Counselor. "It's a way of letting your feelings out into the open, any way you can," Curtis said calmly, not unaware of the irony in that this was to some extent what he was already doing. She let him snap at her, answering his questions without trying to calm him immediately; the tension release could be important. "The more you understand what you're feeling and don't try to ignore it or bottle it, the easier it will be to eventually move on." "Oh, great! Now it's supposed to be easy, is it? You....people just never get it, do you?" Simon had stood up and was now pacing the cramped space. "It is not easy," Caroline said softly. "What you have been through is one of the hardest things I have ever heard of -- I want to help take some of the weight from you if I can." He stopped in the middle of the room and looked at Curtis. "How?" he asked incredulously. Caroline let out a long breath, unsure if she or he was the one running in circles here. "By letting you talk out your feelings to someone...so you can understand those feelings, so you can move on from the ones that are painful, so you can feel like you are not alone in what you went through." "Alright," Simon said, sitting back down in the chair. "So, you wanna know how I feel. Let me see....where should I start? Oh, I know, how about it really sucks to sit in a lifepod after sickbay just blew up in your face and most of your friends just died. Oh, and hang on, I almost forgot the Romulans who were just waiting to pick us up." He crossed his arms again and fell silent, waiting to see what Curtis would say. Caroline nodded slowly. "I would imagine 'really sucks' is putting it mildly...it sounds like an extremely chaotic and intimidating situation. Were you frightened?" "I don't know." Finally Simon was calming down a little. "There was just so much happening at the time. I really don't know how I felt. Confused, maybe. I mean I was scared of the Romulans." Caroline nodded again, then added thoughtfully, "Are you scared now?" Simon shook his head. "No, I mean, I have...euh...bad dreams but it's over, you know." He frowned, not quite sure what Curtis meant. "What do you dream about?" Caroline asked. Shrugging, Simon tried to remember his last dream. He vividly remembered waking up from it but the dream itself..... that was difficult. "Mostly what happened in sickbay. You know we were hit and there was an explosion and not everyone made it out. I knew Finn was pretty much at the centre of the explosion and someone dragged me out even though I just wanted to go in and help." "Finn?" Caroline asked, leaning forward slightly, letting her elbows rest against her desk. "Huh? Oh! My roommate and the reason why I'm still here. When I was assigned to Reaent he made sure I didn't come late for my shift too often and he kept me out of trouble many times. He's my best friend and well...maybe a bit like a big brother." Simon was surprised to hear himself say that. Normally he'd never admit anything like this. "Ahh..." Caroline nodded understanding. "Yes, such a friend can be a good addition to life for someone on their first assignment." And you watched him die...you poor kid... "Have you talked to him about this?" "No, he doesn't want to talk about it. I mean, how would you like being told that you died?" Caroline made a mental note that she would have to speak to this other young man as well. "I probably wouldn't like it much," she admitted, "but there isn't much about this situation that anyone likes." Suddenly Simon looked the Counselor straight in the eyes. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he was going to say. "I've never had a real home before comign here. I mean, yeah, I was staying at my grandparents but, you know, I have friends here and Doctor Matthews...she could have had me court-martialled or thrown out of Starfleet a few times but she never did. I mean, I was scared of the Romulans but what was even worse was knowing I had lost all that." With that he fell silent, feeling silly because he had revealed so much but it was the truth. Curtis had said talking would help. So he was talking. Caroline let out a long breath as Simon finally opened up to some degree. "I can believe it -- it sounds like your stability was very wrapped up in this ship; seeing it go must have been very scary." Simon shook his head vigorously. "No, not scary, frustrating. I mean it figures. Why would ever go anything right for me? It's all my fault." "That is entirely untrue," Caroline said firmly, catching Simon's eyes as he shook his head. "No one aboard this ship is to be blamed for what happened; none of you could have expected it." "No, no, I'm not saying that I caused this somehow," Simon tried to explain. "It's...difficult. I mean, I don't know, maybe I just shouldn't bother with all this crap." Caroline wasn't sure what he meant. "With Starfleet?" "Yeah, Stafleet, friends stuff like that. It was easier before...in many ways." Caroline shook her head slightly. "I very much doubt that you are the worse off for having friends, Simon. It's friends that help us get through the difficult parts of our lives. Like this." "No." Simon's voice was hardly audible. "No they don't," he said, shaking his head. "What do you mean?" Caroline looked at him with some concern and sympathy but also some curiosity as to where this was about to lead. "I just mean that...you know, how can I talk to them about it? They've been throught he same thing and...dunno, I don't even feel like being around anyone much." It was true. Ever since the incident simon preferred being alone and he was glad noone had noticed yet since everyone was preoccupied with their own problems. "Well, you shouldn't force yourself to do what makes you uncomfortable...everyone adjusts in their own way," Caroline said agreeably. "However...you might find some people would be very willing to talk about it with you if you wanted -- that's why we've been having the group sessions." "NO!" That came out more forcefully than Simon had intended. "No, I'm not doing group sessions! I'm not talking about this in front of people I don't know." "And you certainly don't have to..." Caroline said soothingly, surprised inwardly by the directness with which Simon suddenly addressed her. "My point is that some people seek out that sort of sharing of experiences, so if you change your mind, you don't have to feel embarrassed." "I just don't know what to do. I'm not doing group sessions, this isn't really helping...I think. I'm not sure anything's ever going to help." Simon was starting to get frustrated because he started to realize that there was no quick and easy way to deal with this. "I just want to sleep again without seeing explosions and hearing people scream. And I want things to be like they were before." "It's going to take a while for you to move on, you're right," Caroline said. "But you will move on. You're young and strong and you have a lot to do with yourself. There are dream suppressants that can be used as a temporary measure if your dreams are interfering with your sleep patterns and therefore with your work, but those too are something that will truly pass only with time." She paused. "Things aren't going to be exactly like they were before because you will never be exactly the same. Every experience leaves its mark." "I guess, it's just...you know, it's easier when you don't care." That was something Simon had been pondering for a few days now. Without friends there was noone to worry about. As for himself, there had been a time when he hadn't really cared either and he had managed to convince himself that it was for the best. Caroline contemplated Simon for a few seconds. "It probably is, in some ways -- but I've never met a person who didn't care about something, and wasn't better for it, too. It sounds like you are the better for what you have known aboard Reaent and I don't think you should discount that, or be afraid to hold onto it." "Yeah," Simon agreed half-heartedly and fell silent. He didn't really know what else to say. So he just sat there for a moment, reluctant to get up but expecting Curtis would ask him to leave any second. Caroline waited. She had no intention of throwing him out, obviously, but she wanted to let him direct the conversation. He had been starting to open up a little and she hoped that given the opportunity and not forced, he might continue to do so. "Everytime I see Finn I remember how close he's come to dying, so to speak. And not just he, almost all of the medics in sickbay died in the explosion because it happened right where we usually work most of the time. I don't know what to think. I mean it probably sounds weird but at first I was mad at myslef...you know, for being the only one who got away, for not being where I was supposed to be at the time. I'd asked one of the others to take over replicating meds so I could help treating patients...I really like that better than replicating, you know." Simon looked up briefly and the hint of a smile appeared on his face. But it disappeared quickly as he remembered what he was actually talking about. "There were just so many patients and...anyway then there was the explosion and we had to evacuate and then, I knew I should have been glad to get away but I wasn't. And then there were the Romulans and then the other Reaent. It was just so weird." Caroline nodded sympathetically, listening as Simon began to talk again. "It sounds like it must have been a very bizarre and horrific experience, certainly not like anything your training prepared you for. And...you certainly don't have to feel 'weird' for having been mad at yourself; survivor's guilt is a powerful and painful emotion and it can strike very hard. However, it may help to remind yourself that there was no way you could have known what would happen." "I know, and now it's not important anyway, right? I mean everyone's alive but still...I keep asking myself whether what I'm doing is right and what would happen is we had a similar incident and...well, I just can't stop thinking about this stuff." Simon looked at the Counselor with an expression of frustration and despair. He didn't really understand most of this himself. Caroline smiled and it had a tinge of sadness to it, and she caught his eyes again. "You're in good company; that's the question most of Starfleet is often asking itself. What will we do in this or that situation...will we be ready? And every officer is trained in contingencies and improvisation and damage control and not panicking but in the long run -- no one knows what's going to happen. In the long run what you did then and what you do in the future will always be based on what you felt in your own mind that you should do. And that's as legitimate a validation as any code of morals or Starfleet directives." Simon frowned. He had only understood about half of what Curtis had said. "I, euh...dunno. I mean whatever I do I always wonder if....you know...say, I ask someone to go to the storage and get me something I need and then I suddenly think...what if, you know, it happens again and I survive but that person doesn't, because of me.......ah! It's crazy I know." "It is not crazy. It is how you feel about the situation, it is how your brain is reacting to a situation it didn't know how to predict." "But I shouldn't feel that way. It's wrong!" he insisted. "Why?" Caroline asked, her tone neutral. "Because....I don't know." Simon kept looking at her, cokcing his head to one side. "You're the shrink." Caroline smiled, looking amused, though not in a condescending way. "I'm the shrink and I'm telling you it's OK to feel the way you feel. As a matter of fact, it's worse to try to deny it." "But I don't understand it." Simon threw up his arms and looked somewhat helpless. "You don't understand thinking about something incredible and frightening that happened to you and having it affect your outlook?" Contemplating Curtis' last words Simon remained silent for a few moments. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't understand myself." Caroline nodded. "People spend their whole lives trying to understand themselves and what they want...it's never a simple black-and-white answer, and you've been forced to look at your life in a whole new way." "Doesn't mean that I have to like it, right?" "You don't have to like what happened to you, no. I certainly wouldn't. However, I hope you do like what you find when you look at yourself." Simon shook his head. "What if I don't?" He was a little worried because Simon really wasn't sure whether he liked who he was. Curtis let out a long breath. "Then I guess we have a lot to talk about."

Images, I guess. :huh:

Oh. ::embarrassed:: Nvm... That's weird then. :P I have no idea.

Click "My Controls" in the top right corner of the board. One of the options in the left-hand panel should be "Change E-mail Address."

Torre bent back, the bat'leth passing over her face by an inch. She was in the holodeck, working out her frustration by doing one of her old exercise programs. She was clad in a pair of tight fitting yoga pants, and a tank top. She kicked out with one leg, slamming the klingon into the wall. She was grabbed by one of the others from behind, and yelled, slamming her head back, and curling her arm, to throw him off. She grabbed one of the discarded bat'leths, and moved to strike the Klingon on the ground, before he recovered. Sam stepped off the turbolift outside of the holodecks and rubbed the back of her neck tiredly. The ship was now on course for the planet of the Hamara race which had rescued the Arcadia crew from radiation poisoning, and she was now starting to feel the effects of the last several days in earnest. Part of her just wanted to go back to her quarters and sleep, but her mind was too active with the discovery of a new race and the nerve-sizzling feeling of a near-death experience, so she had had headed for the holodecks in the hopes of something relaxing to take her mind off things before grabbing some sleep. She tapped the controls of the door and waited for it to slide open and was greeted by the sight of someone else's program already in force. There was the sound of a grunt and then the bulk of a thrown Klingon arced through the air towards the open doorway, fizzling out of existence before hitting her as it passed the boundary. "What the..." Torre looked up in alarm, the bat'leth mere inches from Sam's chest. "What are you... Computer, end program." The program ended, and Torre straightened, sweat dripping off her. She stood, staring at Sam, still rather alarmed. "Sir..." It was the Cardie with the Bajoran name, wielding a Klingon weapon. Well, this is nice and multicultural, isn't it... Sam thought. It also was entirely *not* what Sam had been hoping to find and didn't offer much in the way of relaxation. She had not had much time to come to grips with the presence of a Cardassian on board. When she had first caught sight of Lieutenant Torre -- a glimpse, entering a turbolift on the bridge -- she had been startled; since then she had worked with the Cardie twice, but done her best not to have to get to know her. "Lieutenant," she said, a little coolly, stepping back with the intention of allowing the doors to close. Torre held up a hand, waiting for her adrenaline rush to ebb out. "W-was there something you needed sir?" "Well, the holodeck, obviously," Sam said dryly. "But it looks like this one is occupied." "I had completed my workout...therefore, you may use it." Torre looked up. "Computer, rebeam towel and earring into the holodeck." The towel and earring she had brought into the holodeck were beamed back in from her quarters. She picked the towel up, and patted herself off, before clipping the earring on. It was her adoptive family's Bajoran earring... her mother's old one. Sam watched this performance silently from where she stood outside the holodeck. She had noted the Cardie's earring before; it went with the name. Her natural curiosity about the odd juxtaposition of race and accoutrements was warring with the more primal desire to avoid displaying interest, and at first it seemed as if the latter would win out as the Cardie moved for the corridor. But just as the taller woman brushed past her Sam finally gave in to the questions in her mind and spun, directing the words at the back of the lizard-like neck. "Alright, so what's your deal, huh?" Torre looked back at Kent, an eyebrow raised, her black hair falling into her face. "My deal?" Sam rolled her eyes. "The earring and all that. The name. You know what I'm talking about." Torre's look of curiosity slid off her face, and was replaced by a grim look. "Oh... that... yes. My parents... adoptive parents, were Bajoran." Sam's eyes narrowed a bit. She'd heard about families who had chosen to adopt Cardassian children; it was a confusing prospect at best and not one towards which she had reconciled her feelings. Her father had been vocal on the subject; he had been a liaison to several resistance groups during the Occupation and, while an extraordinarily tolerant man in other respects, had probably even less than the average amount of sympathy for the reptilian race. Sam had grown up with that, and had a feeling that it was a little extreme, but erring in the other direction didn't sit easily either. "Really...brave souls..." Which, notwithstanding her tone, was true to some extent; associating with Cardassians in the wake of and during the Occupation was not an easy way to garner friends among the native populace. Torre looked down. "Yeah... most people said that about my parents." "Yeah, I bet they did." Sam was a little surprised at herself for the tone in which these words were emerging. She prided herself on being a generally stable person. Xenophobia was not in her vocabulary. Four hours ago she had been on an alien ship talking to a bunch of pigs without losing her cool. But just dealing with this one person on this ship for some reason shook up all her usual affability. Her honest curiosity ended up wrapped in a shroud of cynicism and even some mild distrust, despite the Cardie's behavior during the Aether debacle. "Why'd they have to take you in?" Torre shook her head. "They didn't have too... I didn't deserve my parents. They took care of many Cardassian children, but I was the first they adopted. When they died...well, quite simply, it was the worst thing I'd ever felt in my life." Sam looked at her silently for a few moments. How the hell did I end up in this conversation to begin with...I'm too bloody tired for this. Unable to think of anything civil to say and still awake enough to wish to preserve some sense of her own dignity, she just grunted acknowledgment of the statement and turned away, moving into the holodeck. Torre watched her. "I am sorry, but why do you really care?" She winced at how she sounded, but she kept going. "I've seen the looks you give me. Not really a surprise actually." Sam halted and cast a glance back over her shoulder, grimacing. "I apologize for not dancing for joy," she said, and the tone was rough with frustration, at herself as much as the woman in front of her. Torre turned away, her lips tightening. "No need to dance for joy. It seems... the usual for a Bajoran." She stopped wincing at what she said, anger clouding her judgement. Sam angled her body around. "What do you mean by that?" Torre turned around. "Each Bajoran I meet is the same. You don't care how I act, it's the scales, the gray rubbery skin that's the first thing you see. I didn't figure you would really be any different, but hey, one can dream." Sam's jaw clenched. What the Cardie was saying hurt -- more particularly because it was true, and she knew it, and she hated it. "Stand down, Lieutenant," she muttered, for lack of a better immediate rejoinder, her tone tight. "You're overstepping yourself." Torre bit back a reply. "Fine. I will step down." she turned around, breathing heavily. She didn't know why she was acting like this. It wasn't like her, but she could barely stop herself. It was like the 12 years of crap she took, and she finally lost it. Sam stared at the other woman's turned back for a moment, her fists slowly clenching and unclenching at her sides. Her exhaustion was catching up to her. It had to be. Under normal circumstances she would never have allowed herself to even become embroiled in this conversation. Would she? Suddenly beset by a desperate desire to be anywhere other than here, she pushed past the Cardassian lieutenant back into the corridor, making quick tracks for the turbolift. "You'd better finish your program." "Take the holodeck," Torre said quietly. "I'm done with the program." Sam halted but didn't look back. "Shouldn't'a come down here in the first place," she muttered. "Need sleep." There was a short silence and her hand snapped out against the 'lift controls, striking them with unnecessary force. "You got fried worse than the rest of us. You probably do too." "Yeah... I probably do need sleep." Torre watched her for a while, before turning away, wishing she could take back some of what she said. Sam's thoughts weren't even that coherent. She'd been startled by the vehemence of her own response to the Cardie and much as she wanted to chalk it up to exhaustion, she knew there was more to it than that. All in all, not the conversation she wanted to be having with herself right now. "Amojan y'tek…" she muttered, pushing through the doors of the 'lift as they opened and waiting until they had slid shut again before giving in to her mounting feelings of frustration by slamming her fist moodily into the wall. "Another thing to figure out..." Torre watched as the lift closed, before turning around and walking down the hall. After that encounter, she really did need some sleep...

Haaaaaapppppppyyyyyyy Biiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrttttthhhhhdddddaaaayyyyy!

Jesus...huge crash on the DC Metro...scary drive listening to the radio wondering if my dad was on it. ::having a "whew" moment:: My thoughts go out to anyone in the area who was involved or knew someone who was.

Winner: Allen Armstrong Runner-Up: Alces :P

Sam's feet hit the decking of the science lab and she stumbled, glancing around a little unsteadily. This was where she had been when the ship had been scoured of the psychomalignant killer zombie death lint by the radiation she and Daena had calibrated. This was where she had fallen unconscious, and where she thought she had woken up a few minutes later. This was, apparently, where she had lain until the "pig-men" race had found Arcadia dead in space and brought the crew aboard their own ship to purge them of the radiation poisoning. Sam was still getting a grasp on the situation. The unnerving set of hallucinations which the crew seemed to have more or less collectively undergone still had her shaken; it had been one of the more unnerving things she had yet seen in her Starfleet career. And before she'd really been given time to recover from that, she'd found herself acting as a semi-translator for a race with a sketchy UT whom she'd never seen before. If they were telling the truth, this porcine race had cured the Arcadia crew -- minus of course two of the engineers. Jordan Black and the Cardie with the Bajoran name...Torre...they had both reacted more severely to the radiation poisoning which had crippled them all. It had taken some doing but they had managed to convince the pig-race (presumably they had a name, but Sam didn't know it) to return them to the ship. Sam couldn't help a small flash of pride -- she'd really done something there. She'd managed to make contact and negotiate some sort of terms... God...I feel like my father... she thought to herself with a faint grin. She looked around at the empty lab, rubbing the back of her neck as she got her bearings. It was quiet and reassuringly famliiar. One of the chairs was pulled out from a console, which was still displaying readouts on the radiation frequency which had been used to scour out the nanites. Skitter was still here; upon her arrival he had let out a high-pitched whistle and clattered over to latch onto her pants leg. As a matter of fact everything was exactly as she had left it, except-- "Where's Daena, Skit?" she asked, reaching down to unclasp the little spider-robot from her uniform and lifting him, letting his laser eye play over her face. "She was here with me when the radiation went out..." Skitter whistled, cheerfully uncomprehending, and his legs clacked together as he wriggled in her grip. She sighed and set him down, letting him disappear back under one of the consoles. "Computer -- locate Lieutenant Commander Daena!" "Lieutenant Commander Daena is on the bridge." "Huh..." Sam turned and quickly jogged out of the lab and into a turbolift. Daena was on the bridge...but the crew had only been returned just now. There had barely been time for Sam to get her bearings, let alone for Daena to do so and make it somewhere else on the ship. The crew seemed to have been kept good and incapacitated until now to give the porcines time to work...the only way Daena could have made it that far was... ...if she had not been picked up in the first place... "Bridge!" The turbolift hummed and Sam drummed her fingers against the wall impatiently. The trip seemed to take forever. Finally she bolted out into the Arcadia's command center and looked around wildly, just in time to see the shape of Daena's body sprawled on the floor and vanishing in the whirr and shine of a transporter beam. Jordan Black was leaning over the disappearing body and her expression said volumes. Uh oh...

I swear it never stops storming in Maryland in the summer.