Jaiysa t'Tamarak

Attn: Starfleet Personnel Department Re: Commission I have now attempted this communique under the auspices of two universes not actually my own. It is therefore with some frustration that I make the attempt again, but I am given to understand that the situation of the USS Manticore has now been ascertained with relative certainty... Jaiysa paused, setting the PADD down on the desk and leaning her head on one hand, her dark eyes scrutinizing the bulkhead of her quarters with interest before resuming her writing. The last month had been slow, introspective; she had found a certain amount of distraction to be found on Mahasin but no particular relaxation. She had been debating her position with the lloann’na Fleet since long before her recent work on Erei’Riov Faldek; she did not fool herself enough to think that her situation had ever been one of particular clarity. But the discomfort which she had suffered during the surgery had been both surprising and worrisome. She could not legitimately offer her services if she could not trust herself to perform them with equanimity. But she could do nothing else, either. She was not a soldier; she could do nothing with an engine. She commanded neither intelligence authority nor political sway (factors which could raise an otherwise useless officer to positions of prominance, at least in the Empire). She was, and always had been, a student of the mind and body, and she had no home. She had to admit, however, that she was no longer a surgeon. She hadn’t been one for some time, not since long before the Echo facility and the lloann’na. She was, in fact, perhaps lucky that Vilanne had been injured, at the time, under such conditions of uncertainty; there had been no time to think, consider, or remember, and therefore she had done her work properly and made enough of an impact to gain a certain amount of trust. Since then she had treated, commented on, and been injured with these people, but she had done no further invasive surgery and the question had been allowed to lie quiet. It was before her now, and as she again pondered the possibility of throwing her lot in with the Manticore permanently, she wondered with an honesty that she would have admitted only to herself whether she was in fact equal to the task. She could not judge herself by any light other than that of her ability to understand the processes of the body, but she could not risk leaving to chance the potential influences of her memory over her present. She pondered the question for some time in silence, and then leaned forward and readdressed herself to the PADD. ...and it is with great respect that I forward my qualifications and references to you with the request of a formal commission and posting to the USS Manticore to offer my assistance in the field of biological science. I hope the attached information will offer suitable credentials and I will submit to any necessary verification of my identity, honesty, and thorough (and, in fact, enforced) disconnect from the Empire which saw my birth. I anticipate hearing from you shortly. Until then I shall remain with the crew of the Manticore and maintain the state of consultancy which I have occupied to this point. Hann’yyo. Maenek Jaiysa ir-Apnex t’Tamarak

Meritorious Achievement Award The light seemed unbearably dim; Jaiysa said nothing of it. She was not in the habit of complaining during surgery. It was merely a distraction in a business that would never be made entirely pleasant anyway. Besides, the dimness of the room was partially a reflection of her own dim mood; she was more than familiar enough with her own thought processes to recognize psychosomaticism at work. She did not, if she was to be entirely honest with herself, want to be here. Not anywhere near this place, this medical bay, this particular surgery. Ironically enough, of course, it was for the very reasons that she did not want to be here that no one else could be here in her place. At any rate, it was too late to avoid it; in light of the damage and complexity of the situation in engineering, she had avoided treating Erei’riov Faldek’s neurological issues until now, and now both she and he were paying the price for it. “The device is centered in the medial frontal cortex of the Card’hassin brain,” she said quietly, the words designed to center herself in the situation as much as providing any report on the surgery’s progress. “It interferes with the signals providing feedback on the pain caused by a given sensory input and triggers a release of endorphins in their place. The breakdown of the mechanism is causing both signals to process at once, overwhelming the cortex’s capacity...” So many ways to damage such an extraordinary organ...she thought, looking down at the pulsing, glistening muscle, grey as the scalp and reptilian skull that couched it as it lay open to her scalpel. This was her battlefield; it always had been. She knew every inch of the neural landscape; she knew its function and its purpose. It was her source of power. It was where she had chosen to localize her particular genius. And she hated it. Not Faldek’s particularly, of course, but the brain in general. Faced with such a surgery for the first time since her terrible days in Tehann, she found herself hating it for its capabilities, for everything that it could do or fail to do, as it chose. Or perhaps simply because of everything she could do with it. If she chose. In spite of the dimness, her head felt coldly clear. Her fingers moved deftly against the tissue, gently invasive into the lobe which housed the small Card’hassin device which had caused Erei’riov Faldek’s collapse in Engineering only an hour or so beforehand. There it was, small, grey metal on grey flesh; one might have missed it if they were not looking. An insidious device; she would not attempt to entirely disconnect it, for doing so would result in potentially insoluble damage to the cellular matter surrounding it, and would cause indescribable pain. She knew too many ways to do that already. Too many ways which even now lay available to her with only a flick of the wrist. The thought chilled her. **** “Au hesitate, Jaiysa. Why?” “He knows na thing, Amarik. Let him be. Anything further and he will die.” **** “I have reached the device and am beginning the introduction of neural blocks to eliminate its access to the pathways which are its primary catalysts.” She turned her wrist sideways, sliding the device into clearer view and starting the delicate procedure with her eyes narrowed, one pointed eyebrow quirked upwards unconsciously. As she worked, she wondered about the long-term effectiveness of the approach they were taking. It was entirely possible that blocking off the pathways which the device controlled would simply result in further pathways being established in ways that she could not predict. She would have to anticipate every possible reaction of both the device and the organ it controlled. And the brain is so adaptive...so creative in its reactions...it is impossible to comprehend the permutations of its response, though I use another of its kind in the comprehension... **** “Continue the interrogation.” “To what purpose, Amarik? It will continue until he simply teaches himself to feel na thing at all...and then he will be as y’ya as if au had shot him to begin with. Let it be...fhaen, Amarik, fhaen let it be.” “Continue, hta’Dva! He was insolent and will pay the price.” **** She worked as much by instinct as by conscious thought, her dark eyes flicking between the biobed readouts and the incision site with cool intensity. She spoke only a few times more; twice to explain the next step in the procedure, and once with great calmness to request a further addition of sedative to the Card’hassin’s system in light of a reflexive motion as his body responded to the invasiveness of the procedure. Her expression belied nothing of the troubled thoughts, the deja vu which became stronger and stronger as she worked, as she remembered her own comfort with the surgery she worked on. Her own expertise, once a source of pride, now frightened her as she remembered, absently, as if at a distracted distance, what it had come to mean in recent years. She had not made such inroads into another’s mind or body (unless she counted her treatment of Vilanne, which had been an emergency, more reaction than purpose) since Tehann, and at Tehann, she had not been a surgeon, merely an extension of her own scalpel, wielded by another. He would be alright, she finally announced. With time to rest and recover, he would survive. His mental capacity would not be affected -- she was too good, too precise, for that, and though an adaptive relapse was possible, she had taken every care that it would not be likely. She said all this with cool certainty and disappeared out of the room to collect her thoughts, unwilling to reveal the fear that the business had put into her. How long would it be before she could be a surgeon entirely without guilt? **** “It’s over, Amarik.” “Good. Au have done well, Maenek.” “I have done what au asked. I have done na as a maenek. And I have na done well.” au -- you Card'hassin -- Cardassian erei'riov -- Commander fhaen -- please hta'Dva -- expletive maenek -- doctor na -- no, not y'ya -- dead

Meritorious Achievement Award An electrical synapse is fast, the fastest mechanism of the fastest organ in the body. The brain's chemical conductors retain more of their signal between neurons, but in the electrical synapses lie the body's reflexes, the automatic responses, the simple, primal actions which keep a body alive. In Mitar Precip's brain, they had failed. 3.5 nanometers was all the distance they had to cross. Miniscule. Infinitesimal. And yet, somehow, as a result of this new universe, they had failed. The bursts of electrical energy, weakened by an utterly alien change in the very space they inhabited, strained at their charged bonds and couldn't reach their destination, hanging instead in that negligible passageway of empty space. And as they failed, breathing failed. Heartbeat failed. Digestion, excretion, judgment, reflex, everything, and he collapsed, with no response even to the crack of cheekbone on metal. As exhaustion swirled in the back of Jaiysa's mind, blunting rationality, she found herself fixated upon that idea. A short distance, too small to fathom, and yet a leap of faith. A leap of faith, membrane to membrane. World to world. Universe to universe. And there, lacking the grace of God, go we. The ship shook around her as the engines engaged. They had in a sense gone nowhere. As far as she understood it, their physical location was the same, somewhere near Maturin Station. But they had leapt across the gap, across the cosmological nanometers that separated them from another world. We are the electricity in the synaptic universe, she thought, and the incongruous poetry of the thought made her snort dismissively as the rattling roar of the ship grew, muffled and mixing with the sound of explosions. A function so simple in theory and so complex in practice. Transition from a state of repulsion to a state of attraction. Transmission necessary to survival. She felt oddly detached, waiting it out in silence with a vague sensation of anticipation that, one way or another, soon she would be able to sleep. Raleigh shouted across from her, a noise of pure pain, and she cast her eyes sideways towards him, hung on with all her might as she saw the blood soaking his uniform jacket. The comm was calling for their attention in a hundred different places and none of them could move as the ship continued to shake and pitch and roll. "Brace for exit. Power ready for exit in five...four...three...two...one...exiting." The very fabric of the matter around them seemed to shudder as the ship struck the receiving membrane and surged back into realspace; she almost choked on a shout as the impact threw her into the wall behind her. And then it was over. The universal synapse had fired. They had been transmitted. Clearer sounds began to filter through to her exhausted brain, in the resulting, abrupt silence. The noise of the comms became clearer, mixed in close harmony with a string of expletives from Raleigh. But her eyes first flicked over to the bed holding Precip's body, and she saw a light flare across the readouts there. The silent leap of electricity, neuron to neuron, like an old, familiar friend, a friend who had been lost in that strange dislocation but now returned, pulsing, ten thousand times more important than a heartbeat, into his brain. She smiled abruptly, releasing her death grip on the bed with stiff fingers that complained at the abrupt relaxation. It's alright, then, she thought, with relief that punctured the sensory overload around her. We really are back.

PADD in hand, Eva exited the surgical bay where the former Chief of Security lay unconscious. The diagnostic was simple enough; finding the cause was, as her mother often said, a whole other ball game. She gave the PADD to Jaiysa who was out of the bay as well. There was no need for 4 physicians to close a nasty head wound. The doctors' time would be better spent examining the new Bolian patients and quickly finding the cause of this illness. "These are Commander Precip's last scans, and since he's been spending quite a bit of time in here, they're pretty recent. I would say the oldest brain lesions don't appear to be more than 2 weeks old. There is nothing to indicate that this is a degenerative condition having reached its debilitating phase. Its seems like a sudden onset of..." Eva paused, thinking. "...of...something... affecting the motor neurons. It's just too sudden; the rapidity of the symptoms evolving into a complete neural shutdown as we see here seems to indicate something...an acute neuropathy... Guillain-Barré syndrome or similar but the scans results don't directly conform to that particular condition. There are too many inconsistencies that cannot be strictly attributed to xenoneurological differences.” Jaiysa grunted agreement as she took the PADD, comparing it to the biobed readouts from the neural workup they had just completed. "It’s certainly na a degenerative disorder; his records would have shown evidence of such a condition before now. My conversations with the erei'riov have na suggested anything in the way of a progressing neurological incapacitation -- indeed the injuries for which we've seen him have, I believe, been entirely musculoskeletal. This...is entirely different." Eva approached one of the life support units, picking up the chart started by Doctor Raleigh, and Jaiysa followed her, scrolling quickly through the readouts from Precip's bed with narrowed eyes. Her usual mildly dismissive sardonic air was gone, replaced by an expression of great focus. She was in her element. "I agree that it does na directly conform to the syndromes which would have been my first guesses as correlating with his expressed symptoms, but based on the pattern of neural damage, I believe we can state categorically that we are indeed dealing with a form of motor neurone disease -- probably focused in the corticobulbar pathways, as you said earlier..." She nodded curtly at Eva sideways in acknowledgement. "It is, however, manifesting in a form in which I have never seen it, in Bolians or otherwise -- usually the onset of such a condition occurs over a period of years, but the presentation of physiopathological symptoms in this case has, as I understand it, taken place within a matter of hours and progressed to the level of complete autonomic shutdown." Eva nodded while approaching Lt Parrin’s bed side. “Neurocortical monitor‘s encephalographic data shows that the lieutenant here is having his neurological functions affected in the exact same pattern as Commander Precip. I suspect these two will show similar degeneration.” She said while looking over the two other immobile Bolian patients. The Trill doctor placed her fingers on each side of the cartilagenous ridge above Parrin’s nose to verify that his pulse was still as strong as indicated by the monitor, before approaching Lt Commander Tuk to confirm her assumption that he was also affected by the same rapid onset neurological degeneration. Jaiysa didn’t even bother to glance at their readings; she just nodded. “Consistency in their symptomatology is of course something of a blessing in disguise; it means that there is a definitive external trigger. What that trigger might be, of course, is a fvadt mystery...” She snorted softly, drumming her knuckles lightly on the edge of the biobed. “For now...first-response should be our primary focus -- neurogenic stimulators should help to realign the synaptic firing pattern or at the very least provide some kind of secondary support system to the affected cellular material. 5 ccs of a cortical analeptic -- na more, or we could potentially send them into neural shock which would provide us with an entirely new set of problems. Life support should combat the critical aspects of the collapse of their visceral functions; I’d recommend either cortolin or leporazine for the purpose of attempting resuscitation but that’s useless to us if we can na determine what is causing the root failures...” The Rihan maenek settled herself onto one of the seats near the biobed at which Eva stood, and steepled her fingers thoughtfully. “So what causes an immediate-onset degeneration of neural tissue in multiple independent patients without an immediately obvious external cause? Irumodic Syndrome?” Eva shook her head indicating a negative. “Doesn’t fit...we would have had some report of the four of them exhibiting some kinds of delusions, and I’m not sure about the others but Cmdr Precip’s genetic mapping does not exhibit any of the chromosome mutations that could lead to Irumodic.” Taking a seat facing Jayisa, Eva tried, “Central pontine myelinolysis?” “Doubtful,” Jaiysa answered crisply. “Their bloodstreams show na sign of recent correction for hyponatremia and none of them have a history of alcoholism or liver disease -- at least none present in their records. Besides, the neural damage is not limited to the pons region of the brain.” Eva took a sip of coffee. “You’re right, it doesn’t fit...” She closed her eyes, calling up forgotten memories. “Heredopathia atactica polyneuritiformis? “ “If the degeneration was solely affecting the myelin sheaths, perhaps, which also rules out a number of leukodystrophies. Dysautonomia would explain the visceral failures...” Eva shook her head again. "It would, but there had been no prior sign of excessive fatigue, polydipsia or orthostatic hypotention--” “--that we know of--” “--plus dysautonomia would not present itself in this way -- it would have been caused by an underlying condition unrelated to species-specific physiology or neurology. It seems pretty farfetched to think that the only four Bolians onboard suffered from the same genetic predisposition.’ Eva put her coffee down “We could go on for an hour...there is just no known neurological disease or illness that would present itself this quickly with those specific symptoms. It has to be environmental somehow...” “Environmental...ie. And an entire new array of potential triggers unfolds itself in the blink of an eye,” Jaiysa answered, her tone turning a little irritable. Turning away from Eva, she eyed her console for a moment in thought and then threw up her hands in a gesture of frustration, letting them fall heavily on the console top with a thunk. “Well, fvadt!”

Meritorious Achievement Award The burned area of her lower back no longer chafed; Vilanne's treatment had numbed the pain. For all their usefulness in a treatment context, Jaiysa hated anesthetics, particularly topical ones. Numbing an injury was like gagging a screaming prisoner; the screams were there all the same, and the enforced silence made that knowledge all the more unnerving. Vil was right, of course. The burns Jaiysa had sustained during the fire in surgical suite one, left untreated, presented an unnecessary additional risk of infection to everyone in the bay. But the numbness was...distracting. She told herself, with great firmness, that it was only the numbness which was distracting her, but in this moment of calm, puzzled silence following the announcement from the lloann'na consul-general, with the critical patients beginning to dissipate and the maenekir finding a bit of breathing room, it was hard not to reflect. She found herself, in the moment's break she allowed herself, standing again before the damaged suite, running a hand along the burned inside of the bulkhead, remembering... Llaiir... Flames, licking at the walls, charring them and the components they housed. Llaiir... ****** "Llaiir! Ri'nanov, llaiir! Dekon!" Fire! Mother, fire! Help! "Dekon!" The young girl could taste the smoke like burned bread on her tongue. The playroom was stiflingly hot and flames sizzled across the ceiling, and as she curled away, her back touched the wall, and the heat that lay in wait there seared through her like a knife blade. She screamed in pain and toppled forward onto the ground. The fire was rapidly spreading through the coastal mansion where the Tamarak'ir spent their summers. She did not know where it had begun; perhaps the kitchens…but in the space of moments it had taken possession of the walls, the ceiling, anything it could touch. And now it was here, like a monster emerging out of the closets, out of the ventilation shafts, out of the floor, closing on her. Were she reading this in a storybook, Jaiysa would have dismissed her fears as stupid. Even at only six years of age, she had been taught to know the difference between fantasy and reality. Fire was no monster, and she was a Tamarak, no victim. But trapped in the upper rooms of a house crackling to pieces...she saw nothing but a vicious encroaching mouth, the aehallh, monster ghost of the stories Remal told her at midnight, and she screamed for her mother as it ate her room alive. Where was the water? The air was dry, scorching hot -- they lived on the edge of the sea, she could hear the roar of the waves over the roar of the flames, and yet there was not even a drop to be had to smother out the blaze. Panic choked her, heated her green eyes with terror. "Ri'nanov!" She was alone... ***** It wasn't really relevant, of course. In the surgical suite, she had not been alone -- indeed, at the time her thoughts had been primarily on the patient at her side, under her care. Vilanne had been outside to activate the suppression systems within a moment, and though the walls now peeled and collapsed under their own weight and her back was numb... There had been no deaths. Neither the patient nor Vilanne were harmed. But the odd familiarity of it was still too close for comfort... ***** The charred remains of the servant who had tried to save her was in fact the first death Jaiysa had ever seen, though it would not be last. It would be some time, too, before the young girl forgot the image of the body laying outside her door to be found after the flames cleared, when she returned to the house after saving her own life (and breaking her leg) via a panicked flight out the window. It all seemed so terribly unreal and her youthful mind struggled to process it. The reason for the fire was beyond her comprehension or interest; indeed, the fact that it was probably intended against her father escaped her completely. What she knew were the bad dreams, the burned and angry skin on her back. The things she could see and touch and feel. Her room was a burnt-out husk of itself; the collection of belongings built up over six years of affluent existence charred and rendered worthless. Everything was just…gone… Madness... ****** Madness... The fire in surgical suite one had claimed no one, but the battle’s casualties elsewhere more than made up for it. The rapidity with which it began, ended, then passed and left them to clean up the mess was startling. She did not feel overwhelmed by it, of course -- tired and burned but not overwhelmed -- but she did wonder what battle the bridge had fought, why the Manticore had been sent against such great odds without anyone taking the pains to protest it, and in what condition the ship now stood. More, however, she wondered about what was going to happen next. If this was how the lloann'na meant to approach all battles of this war...they would lose. The Manticore would not survive if a beating like this became a constant. It was a chilling thought. Just before their departure from Maturin Station, she had thrown her lot in with these people in the most final way she could have found. And almost immediately, the potential ephemerality of that situation was brought home to her like a hammer blow. When would she learn that nothing lasted? That things earned in a year could be destroyed in an instant, and there was no reason to expect this would be any different... ***** "Jaiy-sa...it's alright, au know. It will be alright. Mother and father will get us new things, and the house will be fixed." "I don't want new things, Remal." "Well, we can na have the old things back, that's a sure thing, ie. But we'll get au something better." "I do na want it. Why take it if it will only get destroyed so fast?" "It will na be destroyed...it's all over, a'rhea rinam." "Na, Remal. Au are smart...but au can na be certain there will be na more fires." ****** a'rhea rinam -- dear sister (roughly) dekon -- help ie -- yes llaiir -- fire lloann'na -- Federation maenekir -- doctors na -- no, not ri'nanov – mother

War. Jaiysa did not know exactly what she had expected but war had not been factored into the equation. In some other lifetime, she might have had access to information such as the buildup of Arcturan forces on the lloann’na border; now, though, it had come as a surprise. It hardly seemed fair somehow, coming almost on the heels of the strange, destructive virus which had nearly decimated the Manticore’s crew (their intervening leave notwithstanding – which had hardly been a leave at all, so marred was it by the news of their subsequent destination). At the moment, she stood in a turbolift hissing its way through the ship’s innards, her eyes narrowed, her mind elsewhere. She was not, per se, afraid of going off to fight; in the spirit of being somewhere useful, she in fact relished it, in a sense. She was, however, she had to admit, unnerved by the idea of going off to fight a lloann’na war; it was odd how different the idea seemed from being an expatriate in peacetime. It bore new issues. One of the security erei’riovir, Kenickie, had made a somewhat disturbing suggestion when the crew had been called together for the initial announcement, broaching the idea of making use of their knowledge of the Echococcosis virus to release a plague on the Federation’s enemies. It had taken a certain amount of self-control for Jaiysa to prevent herself from making an outburst at the time; as it was, the casual reference to the destructive illness had been infuriating – as was the knowledge that Jaiysa’s own opinions on the subject would probably have little to do with the eventual decision the Fleet would make; thankfully, however, the subject had been dropped and seemed to have remained where it had fallen. Preoccupied, Jaiysa had returned to the station’s Promenade for a while, then retreated to the ship; all data on the reptilomutative virus (and its accompanying smaller mysteries, such as Arrain Morran), would have to be brought to some state of closure before the ship’s departure. She had, at least, some control over that. Of course…her initial attempts to get any information from the science department to that end had resulted in a frustrating amount of silence; notwithstanding her vague knowledge of the project she’d overheard erei’riov Escher being tasked with, she was hardly in the mood to be put off on a packet of data that would probably take five minutes to load and transmit to sickbay. Stepping off the turbolift, she turned a corner and walked into the main science lab. T’Prise looked up expectantly from where she was working, holding the partial completed miniaturized emitter array she turned towards the door. She had sent a crewman down to Engineering to obtain additional parts and tools they required for constructing the slipstream components, she was at a juncture where a larger hypo spanner would be helpful. Her eyes narrowed slightly as Dr. t’Tamarak stepped through the doors instead of the expected crewman. They were behind schedule on completing the weapons upgrades and interruptions would no doubt delay the process. “Doctor?” "Jolan tru, rekkhai," Jaiysa said, a little more irritably than she'd meant to; evidently she'd used up her self-control during the debriefing. Taking a moment, she cocked her head back and then moved over to stand on the other side of the console over which T'Prise was now leaning, as she seemed to be the ranking officer in the room at the moment. "I'm here to ask after the state of your comm system." T’Prise stared at the Romulan for a moment, pondering why the doctor would be inquiring of her if something was wrong with the comm or if she meant something else entirely. “If you have found a defect or issue within the comm system, I would suggest that you request a repair team from Engineering to address the matter. Responsibility for that system does not currently fall within the purview of Science.” Turning back towards the work table, T’Prise began to make adjustments the emitter once more, effectively dismissing t’Tamarak. There was a short silence in which Jaiysa resisted the urge to slap the heel of her palm against her forehead as her jibe fell completely flat. Sarcasm was pointless on yyaioir...she wasn't sure why this continued to surprise her. She pondered trying to explain the line of thought for a moment, but it hardly seemed worth it. “I sent you three requests for your collected information on the mutation virus and Morran in the last four hours. I’ve had na response; have you received them or no?” she said tiredly instead. Glancing back up at the doctor T’Prise gave the Romulan a sharp look before answering. “We are currently working on a project deemed top priority by the Admiral. When our project is completed, the information you are requesting will be made available to you. As it is not critical to our upcoming mission, your request will be delayed until more important matters are addressed.” Jaiysa made a noise of frustration at the curt dismissal. "It's a fvadt information transfer; hardly the most complex use of your facilities. What project has you at such a loss for resources?" “We are working on a project that will play an important role in our upcoming mission. I am not at liberty to discuss any further details with you.” "Na at liberty--" Jaiysa snapped, then clamped her jaw shut. She was, perhaps, impossible to please. She had at first rejected Atragon and Vilanne's immediate trust when she felt it was offered too easily; T'Prise's, on the other hand, was clearly still restricted, and while Jaiysa could respect that in a sense, it was hard not to be tempted her to pry at the erected wall. Mixed with her earlier frustrations, it grated and she released a breath in a low hiss. "Rekkhai, I am na here to steal your secrets; I am here so that I may do my job aboard this ship." Focused on the emitter, T’Prise spoke plainly, in a bland tone as if merely reciting facts. “Your situation as an expatriate of the Romulan Empire has yet to be suitably defined in terms of your status as a citizen of the Federation. Although the Admiral has invited you to remain aboard the Manticore and even given you a position as an attending physician, you are not an officer aboard this vessel, nor have you been commissioned as such by Starfleet. Given the situation, it is only logical that the information you are privy to regarding projects and mission be limited to what you are required to know to perform your duties as a doctor.” She was right, of course, which was in itself aggravating, and a number of responses flashed through Jaiysa’s mind. I do na care about au fvadt science project, rekkhai. I know I do na have the authority; I accepted that from the beginning. So why was she so frustrated about it? Because now, for the first time since her escape from ch’Rihan, with the Manticore facing something that had nothing to do with her areas of expertise (the public ones at any rate)…she was caught up, in a way entirely different and in a way almost worse than in the Empire, in a situation beyond her control. She felt helpless, not a pleasant feeling for someone bred in a society where who and what you knew were as important to survival as food and drink. And not entirely for her own sake, either; for the sake of those aboard this ship, some of whom it was hard to picture walking into a war zone at all… “I did na know when I came aboard if I would wish to stay,” she said, twisting her voice to make it a sardonic jab, though she was speaking as much to herself as to T’Prise now. And do I now? Yes…I know that much. “If I had been so desperate to learn the secret inner workings of the science department I’m sure I could have found the authority…for now, rekkhai, I merely want the information on Morran and the virus, to perform my duties, and I will be on my way.” "As I have already informed you, we are currently in the middle of a project which supersedes everything else. If you would be good enough to let us complete this project, we may address your request in a timely fashion," the Vulcan replied unperturbed, still focused on her work. “By which time it will na matter anyway,” Jaiysa muttered, giving up with a shake of her head and turning towards the door. “War tends to be something of a time commitment.”

Meritorious Achievement Award ((This log is probably more appropriately set during last week's TBS, not the current one.)) Vang'radam. It had been a legitimately considerable number of weeks now and the term still grated. Traitor. A Rihan was judged by their honor. Not, of course, necessarily by their personal loyalty or trustworthiness, but by their honor, a slippery term by any account and in Jaiysa's mind even more so than for many. It certainly had nothing to do with the terms the lloann'na computer produced as definitions when she had questioned it. "Honorable...not deceptive or fraudulent. Entitled to esteem and respect. Adhering to ethical and moral standards." That was how the lloann'na defined it. What she knew to be honor to the Rihan at times meant nothing like these terms. Honor was the Empire; those who defended it, supported it, sacrificed for it (or sacrificed others for it, where occasionally necessary). Of course, her final activities on ch'Rihan which had perhaps saved the entire empire had resulted in the complete disintegration of her own honor, so perhaps she didn't know what it was either. It was a term without definition. It didn't matter now at any rate, except insofar as she felt it a legitimate explanation for a perpetually foul mood. Her absolute dislocation from her homeworld was something that simply sat at the back of her mind, and this new ship...more or less a waystation, though she had no idea where she might go beyond it. She had rested with them on Risa, she had suffered with them on Oppo, she had begun to get to know them, but she had not felt (had not *let* herself feel) like one of them, in any true sense. The past few days had been different, however. The ship had nearly fallen to yet another plague -- one on whose details Jaiysa was still not clear -- and she had, with little warning, been thrust into a situation not unlike that which she had faced in the Echo facility not so long ago. A race against time, in which she had not slept, eaten little, and stared in bewilderment at a perhaps-intentional bit of biological abomination which moved extremely quickly and which she, personally, was tasked with determining how to stop. And that was where the similarity ended. Because she had stopped it. Not her alone, of course. Vilanne had managed to avoid falling to the disease long enough, as well as the officers in the science labs, the engineers...she was not so arrogant that she would not, in this case at least, admit their contribution, or that she could not have done it alone. But that was not the point. They had, together, stopped it. There had been none of the powerlessness that she had felt against the Echo virus or in those terrible years on Tehann, none of the sensation of having her hands tied by the secrecy demanded by the Empire. Demanded by her honor. Vang'radam. Traitor. But a productive one. The enriov, Atragon, had approached her after it was all over; she'd expected that he wished a report and had had her mouth already open to provide it but his question had been more general. "So tell me, Doctor t'Tamarak, are you sorry you joined this crew?" It was a legitimate question and one she had to consider for a moment. "Rekkhai..." she finally said carefully, "in the last twenty-four hours I did more work than I did all the time in the Echo facility." More work...perhaps. More productive work, certainly. More work that meant something. "So...na. I am na." A wide grin had flashed onto his face. "Good, because we're glad you're here." This had been approximately the last thing she'd expected to hear from anyone, with the entire crew still in the midst of cleanup and with far more to worry about than any particular need to reassure her, and so exhausted and worn out did she feel at the time that she'd found herself, for a moment, abruptly shaken out of any kind of defensive hostility and honestly a little embarrassed by the compliment. She'd managed to get out only a muttered hann'yyo before he had disappeared but it had left her thinking. When she had first arrived, Atragon had said something roughly to the effect that he expected she might eventually consider the possibility of joining Starfleet proper. It had been a discomfiting suggestion, one she had, at the time, ignored. Perhaps she had been afraid, perhaps she had simply felt there was no point. More likely she had felt like it would be the final step, the final severing of all ties between where she was and where she had come from. It had to be faced, however. The past few days had shown her that very clearly. Vang'radam. She was here and she was never going home. It was time to start thinking about how to make the most of that. It would bear thinking about. ***** ch'Rihan -- Romulus enriov -- Admiral hann'yyo -- Thank you lloann'na -- Federation na -- no, not vang'radam -- traitor

T’Prise’s fingers moved deftly over the console as she relayed information to the main computer. Tapping the controls one last time, she moved away from the console and set about straightening up the lab, properly stowing the contents of the box brought aboard by Lieutenant Morran when the away team had retrieved him from Cold Station Nine, while she waited for the system to analyze her data input. As she went about her work, she began to muse on the current situation aboard the Manticore. The irrational behavior of emotional species continued to both puzzle her and intrigue her curiosity; she still found it a fascinating phenomenon to observe, especially given the events of the past weeks. While the recent actions of Morran and more importantly the outbreak of some type of plague aboard the ship were currently the central focus of the entire crew, T’Prise was much more curious about her commanding officer’s reaction to the situation. Escher seemed to have interpreted his junior officer’s behavior as a personal failure on his own part, not as the sole responsibility of Morran whose conduct had precipitated the issues they were now addressing. While she intellectually understood how powerful the emotion of guilt could be, its manifestation in Commander Escher seemed particularly acute. Were Morran’s actions truly the cause of such a response in the Commander, and therefore the cause of his illogical behavior, or were they merely the vehicle for expression of some underlying issue with which he was struggling internally? His emotions seemed to resemble the movement of a pendulum, swinging back and forth. When she had pointed out that they seemed to be dictating his conduct, he had lashed out at her, in a poor attempt to elicit an emotional response; this was followed by a moment of remorse, but again quickly returned to anger. These abrupt changes puzzled her exceedingly. Yet, notwithstanding his emotional outbursts and the exceedingly illogical arguments and orders regarding the serum which the artificial intelligence had provided to them, he was a good officer and someone the Vulcan considered a friend. The idea that he would allow the behavior of another, so wholly unconnected with his own, to perhaps lead him to make illogical choices and poorly rationalize his own actions merited some level of disquiet within her. Although she could not accurately attribute her apprehensions regarding the matter, she resolved to take careful heed of the situation and to continue to observe Escher, in an attempt to prevent him from holding himself responsible and shouldering additional burdens besides those already attached to his post as science chief. Her own behavior would mostly likely become the subject of a disciplinary action; this would be the logical conclusion to incapacitating a superior officer. However, if it stopped Escher from committing a more grievous offense, it was both logical and necessary. The problems resulting from his practicing medicine without the proper license and credentials could very well lead to his dismissal from Starfleet. She could not allow him to take such a risk when it was unnecessary. Her own dismissal from Starfleet would merely result in returning to Vulcan and taking a research position with the science directorate, while his would deprive the Manticore of an important member of their crew. Her choice had been a logical risk, his had not. The computer emitted a low tone, indicating that the analysis was complete. Focusing once again on the console before her, she perused the results, looking for an indication that the serum might cause harm to Lieutenant Morran. Satisfied with what she found, she tapped her badge, opening up a comm line to sickbay. Jaiysa sat at one of the consoles in sickbay and eyed the readouts balefully. So far, she had not been able to pin down the exact protein or DNA marker which was responsible for the damage to the cells of those officers (and visitors) currently in stasis, nor was she able to identify what element of yyaio biochemistry might be responsible for their resilience (and, she hoped, by extension, her own). This whole business was starting to make her edgy (which, she supposed, was better than itchy), and when the commline pinged down to sickbay from sciences, she all but snapped her response at it. "t'Tamarak. Ie, what is it?" A moment of silence ensued before the calm voice of T'Prise intoned, "I apologize for disturbing you, Dr. t'Tamarak, but I have completed the analysis of the serum provided to us by the artificial intelligence Lieutenant Morran brought aboard.” Serum. There was a serum? Jaiysa vaguely remembered the report being sent down from the scientists; it had been the one Erei'riov Escher had been enquiring after when Mele had evicted him from the medical bay. "If you can tell me that it is a method of counteracting our current problem of transformation, you will make me a very happy woman, rekkhai," she said, a little wryly. Another quiet pause. “I am unable to account for any effects it may have on those experiencing the transformation at this time, as that would require further study. I can however, state that it appears it will not be harmful to Lieutenant Morran in his current state if it is administered. What its efficacy will be in curing the transformation is unknown, but it may be of aid to the Lieutenant.” Jaiysa sighed. Of course, it was meant to combat Arrain Morran's difficulties. She felt a wave of frustration go through her; the idea of settling in with a medication ostensibly intended to battle neurological imbalances and psychosis, something she might potentially understand, sounded even more appealing than usual when faced with the data currently crawling past her, and it suddenly seemed highly unfair that the yyaio woman was dealing with it when she would clearly not appreciate it. Na matter; this wasn't really the time that she wanted to be dealing with that anyway. The time table Maenek Jaz had cited before she went into stasis had placed the transformation issue squarely at the top of the priorities list. "Do you think it is imperative that this be dealt with at once?" she asked tiredly. “Although I am fully aware that you are currently dealing with a crisis in sickbay due to the transformation, I believe it is important that the medication be administered to Lieutenant Morran as soon as possible. I have not had the proper time to run a full analysis, only to determine that it will not harm him but, his condition is worsening and the serum may help to counteract the problems caused by the Echococcosis.” Jaiysa's jaw clenched slightly at the mention of that fvadt plague; she didn't know what bothered her more, the fact that Morran had apparently been involved with it, or the fact that the current chaos in the main bay had made it all but slip her mind. "Ie. Send me the data you have; I will replicate and administer the serum." She paused, pondering another line of thought; it galled her to ask the impenetrable Vulcan for help, but... "In the meantime...if you have any knowledge of cellular biology, your input on the current syndrome at play would be...appreciated," she said grudgingly. The sound of tapping on a computer console could be heard muffled over the commline. “The data has been sent,” T’Prise commented succinctly. “I will review your information regarding the transformation and provide my own insights as soon as possible. Do you currently know the rate of dispersal at which it is spreading, or is it merely contained to those exposed during the away mission?” "We do na believe it is contagious," Jaiysa said as she watched the transmitted data stream in and began programming it for replication. "Or, at least...we did na," she added thoughtfully. "There is now a tendency in the medical bay to believe any itch to be significant, so it is hard to say if any others might be affected just yet." “Could the symptoms presenting in those not present on Cold Station Nine be psychosomatic?” T’Prise queried, her agile mind already shifting gears to focus on the transformation. "They could. It is na simple to pin down the effects until it has progressed relatively far, unfortunately. I am doing comparative tissue analyses at the moment, looking for unique markers across all those currently affected, but progress is slow." Tapping her console, Jaiysa sent her own information off to the Vulcan’s console and told the replicator to manufacture a hypospray full of the serum. “I will analyze the data and contact you if I discover anything of significance.” The scientist’s voice sounded far off, as if she was already disassociating herself from their conversation and was now immersed in the puzzle of understanding the underlying causes of that which had infected the away team and Morran’s mercenaries. "Ie, do that," Jaiysa said, and if she'd had more patience to hand, she would have been amused at the Vulcan woman's peremptory reply. As it was, she just responded with one of her own. "t'Tamarak out." Looking around, she watched the hypospray hum into existence and pushed herself heavily off her seat to pick it up. ***** Arrain -- Lieutenant Erei'riov -- (Lieutenant) Commander fvadt -- damn ie -- yes na -- no, not rekkhai -- sir yyaio -- Rihan slang for "Vulcan" (lit. "dead one")

Jaiysa stepped back from Morran's bedside and folded her arms, letting her eyes drift around the Manticore sickbay. It had become jarringly quiet since the completion of the surgery on the Card'hassin, Faldek, and their general sedation of the returned nohtho science officer. She had general analyses running on the latter's biochemical situation and the Daise'Maenek, Mele, had had secured the former in stasis and would be performing the remainder of the operation himself. It was na exactly a period of peace, but at least it was calm, and Jaiysa took the opportunity to let herself lean against a nearby biobed and draw a deep breath for the first time in what seemed several days. Her moment of introspection, however, was broken by the quick sound of footsteps in the main bay. She looked up just in time to see Vilanne, eyes red at the edges as if from tears, striding out as if something was chasing her. Not like her at all. Jaiysa glanced towards Mele, who's expression showed that he too had caught Vil's movement. She raised her eyebrows slightly in a tight, questioning look, and he nodded towards the door in a tacit permission. Without saying anything, Jai disappeared into the corridor. It took her only a few seconds to request Vil's location from the computer, and she followed her colleague at a good clip, reaching the appropriate deck just in time to see the doors of Vil's quarters closing behind the other woman. For a moment she stood there, as if pondering the best course of action, then shrugged to herself and walked up, tapping the door chime, folding her arms in a characteristic motion, and waiting. Vilanne swept over to the replicator, retrieved her brownie surprise and milk. She had landed on the cot, and dug into her comfort food when the door chimed. She hesitated for a moment, not really wanting to be disturbed. Sitting the bowl and glass down at her tableside she walked to the door, pondering how to respond as well as clearing her eyes. As the door opened, she saw Jaiysa, but she didn't want to see her right now, so she only said, "Yes?" Jaiysa's dark eyes quickly took in Vil's mildly disheveled and definitely wan appearance, and she waited for a moment to see if her friend was going to say anything else. Vil's behavior towards Jaiysa had always been something to the right of hyperactive, and this terse greeting was evidence enough that something was wrong. "Jolan tru, rokhinu," she said quietly, when no further conversation seemed forthcoming. "May I come in?" Quickly, Vil attempted to find an excuse, but couldn't come up with a reason at that moment. "I'm tied up right now, Jaiysa," she said, trying to be kind. "Is there something I can do for you?" It was a cursory attempt to shun her friend, but something was tugging on Vilanne's emotions to pull Jaiysa inside. "Somehow I do na think I am the one who needs help," Jaiysa said with a faint smile that quickly faded. "What happened? You left sickbay like a rharit keshalluri." The tears just wouldn't hold back. Jaiysa knew her too well. "Oh, just come in then," and with that, Vil grabbed Jaiysa's sleeve and had the door close swiftly so the people wandering down the hall weren't privy to her emotional outburst. Letting go of her friend’s sleeve Vil flung herself on the bed, grabbing her bowl of evil. Jaiysa bit down on a grunt as Vil grabbed her by the arm, and stepped quickly inside the doors to prevent herself from losing her balance and toppling forwards. Then she caught Vil's eyes, which she could see were starting to well with tears, and let out a slow, somewhat tired breath as Vil collapsed on the bed. After a moment's silence, she moved to sit down next to her (having no other option but to stand, which seemed somehow overly formal for this stage in the game) and waited. It had been some time since she'd practiced any psychological or psychiatric discipline, but she knew it was better (and easier) sometimes to just listen. Vil’s emotional outburst eased a bit as she took a bite, and then she exclaimed, "What in the world did you call me?" She used her sleeves to wipe her eyes, again, trying so hard to keep her composure. Jaiysa chuckled. "I meant that you wanted to get out of there, na more," she said quietly. "Why?" Vil kept stuffing her face, as if to bury what was bugging her, but slowly she started telling Jaiysa her true feelings. "Jai, I don't want to be marked as a career ender... I fear that my report may do just that." "You put him under a psychological watch," Jaisya said; it was not a question, just a realization. She cocked her head sideways. "You have na done that before, I suppose, or you would na be so upset about it. One report does na brand a maenek one way or the other." "Jaiysa, this could end his career with Starfleet. They don’t want unstable officers ordering subordinates around. Suicide watch is the worst. I mean in the academy, our studies of watches were limited to non-coms, not officers." She finally thought about Jaiysa. "Do you want a bowl?" She waved the dish and slightly shook the glass to infer the combination. "Na, hann'yyo," Jaiysa said absently, shaking her head. Pushing herself to her feet, she wandered towards the other end of the room, and then turned to face Vil. "Do you believe you did the wrong thing, rokhinu?" she asked. "Me? Do something wrong?" Vil thought hard on that one, savoring the flavor on her tongue, but not relishing the turn of the stomach as it went down. "I'm second-guessing my professional opinion. You tell me, why else would someone remove ALL safeties and take on whatever in the holodeck and end up almost dead?" "A desire either to prove himself or escape something -- guilt, fear, responsibility..." Jaiysa said, with a faint one-shouldered shrug. “As if this isn't bad enough, THIS was the guy that arrested me! I mean, internal affairs will certainly look into this,” Vil went on. “I will be questioned by every officer in the fleet before this goes away. This is how it marks your record." She picked up the bowl again, and dove into a couple spoonfuls in a row. "I think I'm more mad than worried. This guy has put me in the middle of this mess. You watch, the whole crew will take sides... I hate this stuff." She stabbed at a rather large piece of brownie and stuffed it into her mouth. The tears were gone; she was in phase two. Calming a bit, Vil finally addressed the direct question with a direct answer. "I did nothing wrong. I did what I was supposed to do. That's what's going to cost me, doing the right thing." She set the bowl down and gulped the last of the milk. She looked at Jaiysa for a few moments, then said in a calmer voice, "That's what happened to you, isn't it? You did the right thing." Jaiysa stared at Vil for a moment. "Ie..." she finally said slowly. "Ie. I did. And received na reward for it except what could, perhaps, be charitably termed escape." Well beyond simply having my career 'tarnished.' "It is na often the simple choice,” she went on after a moment. “Perhaps never. But in the end, it is na easy because you do not have a choice." ***** Card’hassin – Cardassian Daise’Maenek – chief doctor, CMO Hann’yyo – Thank you. Jolan tru – Hello, greetings, aloha, etc. Maenek -- Doctor Na – no, not Nohtho – crazy, insane Rharit keshalluri – bat out of hell (lit. “a rabbit running”) Rokhinu – troublesome [one] (here a nickname)

"Awaenndraev...locate Arrain T'Prise." "Lieutenant T'Prise is in the mess hall." Good, Jaiysa thought with some satisfaction. The Vulcan wasn’t on duty, or in the lab; she was somewhere she might be more willing to talk. The irony was not lost on Jaiysa that she was, in fact, seeking out the yyaio for conversation, given that every previous encounter with the scientist had driven her quite mad; however, she was besieged with a sense of restlessness, a need to do something she couldn’t put her finger on, and given that all three of those who had experienced the “Core” would need to remain in contact with the sickbay staff for some time anyway, this seemed preferable to idling in sickbay allowing her mind to drift. Lately that had become a disquieting pastime… Leaving Vil behind in sickbay, Jaiysa walked into a turbolift and rode down to the mess hall deck where she stepped through the doors and looked around. ***** Selecting a small table in a quiet corner of the mess, T’Prise set down her bowl of soup and a data PADD before going to retrieve a glass of chilled theris-masu. Settling into her seat, she methodically began to list the materials required for constructing a prototype UV. She wanted to have the specifications prepared prior to going planetside, in order to procure any necessary equipment while at the Daystrom. Setting the PADD down, she took a few sips of miso, a human dish she found agreeable. Prior to the Manticore’s mission on Oppo, she had had some success in the simulations of her latest engine design, and now felt that creating a small prototype would be the next logical step in the project. Continuing her work was an important part of returning to her normal routine, to expedite a full recovery from the trauma inflicted by the Core. Her body was healing and soon there would be no physical evidence of the incident. Picking up the PADD once more, she returned to composing her list of needed materials. With a typically blunt lack of nicety, Jaiysa quickly crossed the room, pushing past a few other loann'na officers to come to a halt in front of T'Prise's table. "Arrain," she said curtly, and took a seat across from the yyaio, catching her eyes over the PADD the Vulcan was working on. Cocking a quizzical brow, T’Prise glanced up at the Romulan who had so abruptly intruded upon her solitary meal. “Dr. t’Tamarak? I surmise that this is not a social visit; do you require something of me?” "Ie, as a matter of fact," Jaiysa said, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back. "It has been several days since we were...retrieved from the Oppo 'core,' but I am still trying to determine exactly what was done to us, to ascertain the potential extent of neurological damage. Now that we are somewhat distanced from the experience..." She paused. A blatant lie, that. She was nowhere near distanced from it, but this was hardly the place for that admission nor the person to whom to make it. "Now that we are somewhat distanced, I need to know as much as you can tell me." Pausing for a moment, T’Prise studied the woman across from her, wondering what had precipitated this impromptu inquisition. “I have filed my report on the incident; it details my account of the mission in its entirety. Any information you require should be available within it.” Jaiysa made a noise of irritation. "Please, Arrain, you are quite aware that is na what I am referring to; if I had wished for an official report I could have located my own. All the reports were quite similar, really, the bare facts." She paused, then shook her head, and said, almost to herself, "It was difficult to explain, was it na...?" She had not known how to explain it to Vil when pressed, though she would have to determine how, and soon... She shrugged, and raised her pointed eyebrows at T'Prise. "I want to know what you experienced...in full..." Reaching for her glass, T’Prise regarded Jaiysa dispassionately. “We were integrated into the Core, our cerebral cortexes used to expand the processing capability of its vast neural network. Integration was painful, but induced a state similar to that experienced by comatose patients. The experience was unpleasant; however, we received treatment and should recover from the physical injuries.” "I know the biology of it, yyaio," Jaiysa snapped. "I am na...I am na looking for a scientific report." A tight smile pulled at her lips. "Na doubt au would rather yy'a than tell me something that is na based in numbers, but...try. While integrated...what did you experience?" She paused, tracing a finger almost absently along the edge of the table. "It was not a coma in the truest sense. We were not unconscious…not entirely." She paused, shooting the scientist an almost glaring look to cover any hint of the unsettled tone that had crept into her voice. "So explain to me -- what did you see?" Then, almost casually, as if it meant nothing, though of course it meant everything, "What did you remember?" Unbidden, images flashed to the front of the Vulcan’s mind, memories and thoughts she had stored away for later analysis, to be contemplated when the physical scars had healed. The Romulan’s prodding brought them rushing back to the forefront of T’Prise’s consciousness, things she had never fully reconciled, things relived and re-experienced within the Core, things she was not prepared to contemplate in a logical manner. An icy chill now colored her tone as she shifted in her seat before articulating her next reply. “I have explained my experience to you in adequate detail. Anything else is irrelevant.” The slow progress of Jaiysa's fingers along the table inlay abruptly halted and her eyes narrowed sharply at the sudden shift of tone in T'Prise's voice. It appears I've touched more of a nerve than I thought... "Clearly na irrelevant," she said, keeping her own tone scrupulously even, as she met the Vulcan's eyes with an unblinking gaze. “You would merely rather I did na discuss it. Why?" T’Prise’s eyes narrowed and her posture became rigid, her muscles tensing as she formulated a response. “I have discussed with you that which was pertinent to your inquiry. Given your further insistence on delving into the subject, it is only logical to conclude that you are suffering from some type of psychological trauma as a result of your own experience. I suggest that you schedule some time with the counseling staff to discuss whatever emotions you are attempting to articulate with me. I am neither capable nor qualified to sympathize or consult with you in regards to any emotional repercussions you may be experiencing,” she intoned dismissively, shifting her glance from the Romulan to the glass of herbal iced tea in her hand. Jaiysa’s head snapped back as if she had been slapped, and she scowled at T’Prise, her fists clenching on the table. "I did not come here looking for comfort," she snapped, and the words emerged with such force that even as she said them, she suddenly knew that they were a lie. "I came here to learn what you experienced for the purpose of your own good to determine whether you might have suffered something which would present problems for you in the future, neurologically or...emotionally. I have already seen you once under my care and nohtho enough to forget your own location and I do not care to do it again. So before you give me grounds to have you re-examined, I suggest you determine just what it is that you are not telling me -- and hiding from yourself." Her diatribe was cut off sharply by the sound of the Vulcan’s glass being slammed down with enough force to crack it cleanly in half and leave an indentation in the table top. A short, stunned silence fell, broken by the drip of the spilled iced tea off the edge of the table. Her features still devoid of any emotion, T’Prise silently rose from her chair. “You are not my attending physician,” she said coldly, “nor do you have any logical reason to compel me to submit to an examination, and as I have been cleared for active duty, I can only surmise that your emotional instability is causing you to make irrational threats. Your deflection of your own mental state onto me is illogical. If you are going to persist in this type of behavior, I will emphatically reiterate that you need to schedule a session with the counseling staff for your own benefit.” Her posture stiff and expression cool, T’Prise stepped away from the table, heading out of the mess hall without looking back. Jaiysa stared at the spot in which the Vulcan had sat, her eyebrows raised in a startled expression, She had not expected to get such a reaction; indeed, she had not expected to get one at all. But she had hoped for one. She realized that suddenly, and that fact itself surprised her. She had hoped – she needed to hear what T’Prise had repeatedly denied – that behind that implacable exterior she too had seen things better left forgotten, and that it had bothered her. That Jaiysa was not alone in feeling battered beneath her armor. It had not been said out loud, of course. But she had heard it all the same. And that was something. **** Arrain -- Lieutenant Awaenndraev -- Computer ie – yes na – no, not nohtho – insane, crazy yy’a – die yyaio – Vulcan (lit. “dead one”)

Jaiysa watched as Eva Jaz turned and left Erei'riov Precip's room in the Manticore's sickbay, then turned her dark eyes back on the immobilized Bolian lying stretched upon the biobed. It seemed, given the recent leave which the lloann'na officers had been offered and the discussion which Eva had just had with Precip, that Jaiysa would be taking over treatment of the Manticore Security chief for the time being. His injury was, really, comparatively simple when laid against the neurological damage which those in the "Core" had suffered; the systems of a limb versus the systems of the brain were somewhat less complex in their organization. That being said, the regrowing and retraining of an entire leg back to the level of activity necessary for a career such as Precip's was not a trivial question, and as such, Jaiysa appreciated the challenge involved. Better than sitting out at the main bay consoles and allowing her somewhat wearied mind to drift back to what it had experienced on Oppo... She shook herself slightly and reached for the biobed, tapping up his chart and glancing at it quickly. "As I believe Maenek Jaz already informed you, rekkhai," she begin, with a characteristic lack of preamble, catching Precip's gaze with a sharp look of her own, "you will need a fair amount of physical therapy if you hope to bring your leg back to its former level of usefulness. Without it, your muscles will stiffen as they heal and will not regain the necessary strength." Mitar had set down his Security Log PADD and had the Doctor's full attention. "I had a feeling that would be the case. I honestly do not know how they did what they did (doctors) but I understand one just doesn't walk out of major surgery without consequences. Pardon me asking...I did not participate on the medical mission to Romulus..what is a rekkhai and maenek? Without understanding you I may be at a disadvantage." "Sir and...doctor, roughly," Jaiysa grunted, the slowly dissipating remainders of her aphasia causing a slight pause before the words. Shaking her head slightly, she turned to tap the console again lightly, beginning to sort through potential therapy options. "I haven't dealt much with Romulans...You are the first one I have been in proximity to since..." Precip looked up to Jaisya and froze a moment looking at her, then returned his glance downward. "A regrettable incident...you see I killed one of your people on this ship...Since your arrival on Manticore..it's been a bit odd for me..." Jaiysa's movement stilled for a moment and she turned to look back at Precip with a slightly narrow-eyed look. A tight smile quirked at the corner of her lips, and she made a slight gesture with her head to indicate his collar -- rank and color. "I'd imagine it goes with the job, rekkhai. I can hardly hold it against you...unless you intend to kill me on this ship as well, that is..." A possibility, perhaps, but not one to worry about just yet. After all, he could barely walk at the moment, and she had more important things to think about. "Besides...you can hardly think there have been no lloann'na deaths in the Rihan Empire as well." Her head cocked slightly and she puffed an almost-snort out through her nose. "I understand your position better than you would guess..." Quickly she turned away and looked at the list which the computer had compiled for her. "You'll be continuing on a drug treatment to facilitate the strengthening of the regrown bone and muscle; beyond that, your therapy will be partially dependent on the extent to which you feel capable of using the leg. I can provide you with exercises, stretches...a regimen of walking, or swimming perhaps; things which will engage the muscles without placing more than due strain on the new tissues. Whether you'll return to full capacity..." She shrugged slightly. "We'll know within a few weeks for certain; for the time being, crutches and a brace should suffice to move you -- slowly -- into duty activities again." Precip felt better; he had gotten something off his chest finally...to another Romulan he could tell. "Exercise...Sounds like a plan. One thing though...a lloann'na -- what's that again?"

Sickbay continued to be a flurry of activity. Chief Mele worked in the wings, giving the other doctors specific assignments, while supervising the general care of the four who had been removed from the alien computer array and were just barely out of critical care. Dr. Chalice had finished going over the reports with Doctors Sloan, Jaz and Mele, before being assigned to review T'Prise's situation in detail as the attending. She questioned the Chief's decision to give her this assignment, as she wasn't the neurological specialist, but with Dr. t'Tamarak indisposed, it fell on her shoulders. Mele knew what he was doing. He didn't have to explain it, especially since he had assigned Eva to Jaiysa's case, aware that Vilanne was too emotionally tied to her friend, and that treating the Romulan doctor would keep Eva from over worrying about Hilee. Mele had assigned Dr. Sloan to take over with Hilee, and kept a hand himself in the regeneration process being performed on Commander Precip. He would soon need to wake the Commander and begin the intense therapy required to actuate the regrown parts of the Bolian's leg. Vilanne went into the private room where T'Prise and t'Tamarak were being monitored and, seating herself on an examination stool near the Vulcan's biobed and began reviewing the patient's chart out loud. Attempting to diagnose the problem, she input various routines into the medical computer against all of T'Prise's scans, but the familiar LCARS voice continued to intone "There is not enough data to determine a match," or "The central nervous system is not responding correctly." Vil, with equal frequency, could be heard to respond with annoyance, "I know it's not responding correctly... duh!" Luckily, the computer did not respond back asking why she had asked in the first place. Jaiysa lay slightly to her side, her eyes half-shut. She had been dozing in and out of consciousness for several hours now, listening to the bustle of the lloann'na maenekir moving in and out. Vilanne's voice now and then cut through the noise, louder as it was closer, tones of frustration as she dealt with the yyaio in the next bed over. "If we keep the neural transducer on at these levels, she's bound to respond to treatment. These convulsions bother me. Computer, correlation between these convulsions and any other changes in T'Prises' symptoms." Vilanne waited for a response to this, but the computer only returned, "There is not enough data to determine any correlation. The periods between convulsions differs in each segment between 31 seconds and 19.6 minutes." "Great... this is just great. Ok then, continue the transducer and 10 millisecond intervals. Computer, continue to monitor the frequency and strength of the convulsions as compared to the synaptic activity," Vilanne instructed, hoping that T'Prise would react positively to the stimuli. Something rang false with those words, Jaisya thought, as she once more attempted to clear her head. Her brain, still disordered from the trauma it had undergone, was slow to speak and to comprehend – speech center damage, she knew, though she could not have phrased it aloud – and could not at first pin it down, could not identify the reason why Vil's instructions jarred so strongly. Slowly, over the hours, though, the comprehension came... Yyaio...gemaenir...hiafvar... The Vulcan mind...Jaiysa knew how it worked. Of course she would not respond to those treatments... "Rokhinu..." she rasped, trying to get Vil's attention -- and for a moment that was all she said, as her abused speech centers fought to catch up with her understanding. Vilanne gave orders to infuse adrenaline to help speed up the onset of treatment for T'Prise just as she heard the rasping behind her, and spun on her stool to look at Jaiysa with a smile. "Glad you could join us again. Do you need anything?" she asked, tapping a button on the console to call Nurse Nancy to attend to the Romulan. Jaiysa shook her head roughly, as if the movement could shake the fuzz that seemed to be coating her thoughts. "Your...treatment..." she began, then paused, rephrasing. Her eyes traveled to the biobed console next to T'Prise's body and she gestured at it vaguely. "Her...mind...not..." Vilanne pushed her stool closer to Jaiysa, and patted her forearm. "Don't try and talk yet... just let your mind relax while you heal. You are responding wonderfully compared to when you first got here." Looking up at the vitals, Vil did a quick once-over of her colleague's status. "Transducer…no need…" A low growl of frustration escaped Jaiysa's throat as her words dried up again. Though the phrases hung inside her mind, clear and certain, couched in medical knowledge honed over years, her speech centers flatly refused to deliver them to the outside air in any coherent form. "Fvaaaadt!" she hissed. "My, my... you are stubborn," Vil chuckled, giving Jaiysa a warm smile as Nurse Nancy entered. Hearing the rasping noise, the nurse quickly retrieved some water and handed it to Vil, who lowered the straw near Jaiysa's mouth. "Just wet your whistle, it'll help ease the dryness in your throat." "Na adrenaline!" Jaiysa finally got out, slamming her hand down in emphasis and knocking the cup aside. "Na transducer, na ketaenir! Vulcan...she...Vulcan healing... she... will... rebuild... herself..." Nothing like the way she would have actually wished to phrase it. After a quick peek through the other suite door to assure herself that Hilee was in good hands with Dr Sloan, Eva walked into the private suite just in time to see a glass go flying past her. Vil quickly guarded her from the wet floor while Nurse Nancy went to get a © Scam-Wow to mop up the mess. "Jaiysa was trying very hard to talk and bumped the water," Vil explained. "Her throat is very raspy; I wish she'd just relax it." Vil turned her eyes back onto Jai while Eva looked the Romulan neurologist over. Ignoring Jaiysa's dark look, Eva turned to Vil. "I can sedate her, that would make her relax her throat alright," she replied, grinning. "On a more serious note..." she continued before anyone could respond, leading Vilanne away from their colleague-turned-patient. "I've noticed too that Dr. t'Tamarak seems to have difficulties expressing herself. She clearly knows what she wants to say but is somehow incapable." She stopped for a second , thinking before focusing back on Vilanne. "I think we might have missed a lesion to her frontal lobe that might be affecting her speech patterns. I will be running some more scans on her brain. Hopefully, we can pinpoint and repair what's causing the aphasia." Eva patted Vilanne's shoulder. "And don't worry I'll keep you informed," she added sympathetically. "In the mean time you might want to listen to her concerning T'Prise's treatment. She's still a neurologist." Turning to help Nurse Nancy, Eva watched out of the corner of her eye as Vil cautiously reapproached Jaiysa's biobed, listening as the Romulan continued to attempt to explain Vulcan neurobiology with a visible effort. "You might want to double check the information though; after all, she did suffer brain damage," she added in a low voice as she passed Vilanne on her way to Hilee's room where she planned to spend her short break in between her double shift. Unnoticed by all in the chaos, T'Prise's neurological readings had begun to steady themselves to normal levels. Blinking rapidly, she opened her eyes, bringing her vision into focus, noticing the soft overhead lights as she tried to determine what the voices around were saying. One was agitated, the frustration in it patently obvious, while the other was soothing, apparently attempting to calm the tirade. Long moments passed as the Vulcan took in her surroundings and assessed the situation. Clarity returned slowly, but at a steady pace. It was evident that they had been rescued and were now back aboard the Manticore. Memories came rushing into the forefront of her mind, but T'Prise pushed them aside, not wishing to examine them quite yet. Aside from the steady, dull ache of her head, she seemed to be recovering well physically. The voices continued and T'Prise quickly ascertained who they belonged to and what was being said. "Dr. Chalice," she rasped, her throat parched, but her voice clear, "I believe what Dr. t'Tamarak is trying to inform you that neural transducer stimulation treatments are unnecessary for a Vulcan in a healing trance, as our minds are then engaged in their own reparative functions and will receive no additional benefit from the treatment." Jaiysa scowled, shutting her eyes in a pantomime of exasperation as the yyaio, as expected, emerged from the trance and spoke up in her usual confident monotone. I knew that first, she thought with the irrational petulance of injured pride. "Ie…" she murmured, sinking against the biobed. "Ie…trance…healing…fvadt…" **** fvadt -- damn hiafvar -- heal gemaenir – minds ie -- yes ketaenir -- medicine, medication lloann'na -- Federation maenekir -- doctors na -- no rokhinu -- "troublesome one" (here a nickname) yyaio -- Vulcan (lit. "dead one")

Trapped. Paralyzed, numbed, nerveless. Mind without thought, body without motion, pain without sensation. Souls, minds, consciousness, cornered within their place of safety and refuge. Powerless, they float, frozen inside a single moment, an eternity in a second, barred from moving forward, kept from moving back. Tortured. Stuck, stopped, suspended. Thrust into a moment between consciousness and oblivion, where memory comes without consent, pain redoubled over pain. Distilled to an essence, bent to an unknown will. Controlled, caught, confined. Terrified. Unable to react, unable to shut it out, unable to find relief, walled within the confines of a personal hell, they hang, impotent, indeterminate, incoherent, their horror compounded as the limbo enfolds them. Prisoners of the mind, jailed within thought, tormented by memory. Trapped, tortured, terrified. Within the in-between, the four newest souls add their voices to the silent, terrified scream.

The pain was like light at the back of her eyes, like a roaring rush of sound, like sandpaper on the skin and fire on the nerves. It lasted, at its peak, only a second, but it was enough to tear a roar of agony out of Jaiysa's throat even as she strained to control herself against the strength of the diehvir and their Network. It was the pain of connecters applied to neural pathways, of synapses co-opted and rerouted from their normal function, of the sort of coercion and manipulation against which the brain knew instinctively to fight most vigorously. It was the warning cried out against intruders, warning her of what she already knew – that she was being taken over. Were she coherent, she would have understood perfectly well what was occurring. Neurological scientific theory did allow for such devices. A sentient brain is, after all, little more than an extraordinarily complex computer; properly understood and harnessed it could theoretically be incorporated into a computer system such as the diehvir were using. She knew of research on ch'Rihan on this subject, the accessing of neural energy and function for the purpose of information. And the use of such energy and function for the purpose of pain...well, that was considerably simpler, really. These theories were not at the forefront of her mind, however -- not when she could feel the influence of the network spreading through her, painful and foreign, as her body slowly slipped out of her control. She could not think of anything at all, really. Her thoughts began to swirl, unordered, disjointed, synapses called into sudden use with sporadic, spasmodic activity, firing recollection and thought into coalescence and just as quickly burying them again. She could not think, could only watch as her brain played out memories for her as if for her own entertainment, controlled for purposes she could not understand... The explosion of the Oppo facility in which they had been captured...the Echo lab outside Ra'tleihfi as she had seen it in the last moments before her departure, torn apart by the lloann'na teams and t'Bone...red blood sticking her fingers together as she pulled her hands from the inside of Vilanne's chest... The grimy filth of the last ship she had taken back to ch'Rihan...her quarters in the Tehann base, as quiet, clean, and hostile as the man who shared them with her...the surgical suites of the training hospital in Dartha, rows and rows of shining, familiar instruments... Remal, proudly showing their father his transfer orders so far away to ch'Revellion...Kaiva, and the anger in her face when tr'Jakora had come between them...a Rihan disruptor, shaking in her fingers as she was first taught to use it...the fire that had taken three rooms of the house near Apnex... Memories, images, fragments of thoughts piled one upon the other, hardly marked by her incoherent mind, and she struggled to find a place to rest among them. She could not retreat, for even in the innermost reaches of her consciousness, the memories played out before her, mixed with a single recurring image... A dark room...metal walls in dark grey, sucking in the light...a bed, a bright light, a console...a body...a neural interface...and a scream of pain...

The cell was ten meters square, constructed of some type of metal alloy melded in such a manner that no seams were visible. The only source of light came from a soft glow around the ceiling. The voices of the Manticore away team seemed to be absorbed into the walls, without resonance or echo, and the whole atmosphere was uncomfortably close, with no sign of any other purpose other than that which it was currently being used for — imprisonment. "There are times when silence has the loudest voice," T'Prise stated softly, taking in their new surroundings. Jaiysa t'Tamarak's head came around to look at the Vulcan with an impatient snap. "What in arrienye is that supposed to mean?" she asked irritably. Raising an eyebrow at the Romulan doctor, T'Prise paused, staring at her stoically for a moment before answering. "There is no need to profane. I was merely stating that by being silent we deprive our captors the opportunity to derive any useful information via spoken communication." Jaiysa grunted. "So far I don't imagine they've gathered any information about us except that we are not enjoying our accommodations, and somehow I doubt that's all that much of a wild secret, rekkhai," she said sardonically, though she had to admit the yyaio had a point. She would not find it at all hard to believe that this room was intended as a theater for mind games, for the extraction of information; it had a sterile, tight feel to it that was designed in no way to provide comfort. She knew the impact of such places, she knew what could be wrought in them. But their captors, as far as the team knew, were diehvir, not even particularly anthropomorphic. Would they even recognize the psychological effect of such surroundings, or had they simply constructed a facility in their own image — cold and metallic? She grimaced with frustration. There was no way to know, and that not-knowing added a new veneer of annoyance to a situation that already had its fair share. She had been a captor in her time, she had seen rooms like this, and she found the captive's position a far less pleasant one. "At any rate," she continued dryly, any respect for the advisability of discretion falling prey to that frustration, "I find it hard to believe this group will be capable of such silence unless bound and gagged." Their travel to this place, in another (considerably smaller and dimmer) box, had been in some part an exercise in personality clash, one which Jaiysa had found more amusing than anything else once she had realized that they would make no further progress until they were let out again. Glancing around at the other members of the away team, T'Prise inclined her head in agreement. "I would have to concur with your assessment of the situation. It is unlikely that some members of this away team, especially Commanders Faldek and Kenickie, will see the logic in ceasing useless attempts to gain freedom and instead conserve their strength towards escape at a more opportune moment." The Vulcan fell silent, quietly pondering the situation. While she did not wish to be held captive, there was no other option but to patiently wait until the situation changed. Causing a commotion had proved to be unproductive and useless, not to mention a wasted effort. She was curious about their captors, yet her short exposure to the artificial life forms did not provide enough information to create a hypothesis as to why they seized the away team. Logic dictated that eventually answers would be forthcoming, but until such a time, the rational course of action was silent wariness. Moving to one side, she sat down with her back to the wall and silently looked around to observe the actions of her crewmates. This was a good opportunity to observe them and their reactions to new stimuli. It also afforded her the chance to contemplate the reasons behind the vague disquiet which their current circumstances brought to her otherwise tranquil composure. Jaiysa watched the Vulcan settle herself against the metal surface, then turned away to eye their surroundings again. There was a short, oppressive silence, and the Rihan doctor finally gave in to the need to pace which had been growing in her since they had first been captured. "What do you want, sseikear?" she hissed with obvious irritation after the silence had stretched for some time, looking up at the glow in the ceiling as if it could answer her on behalf of the uncommunicative diehvir. Glancing up stoically at the agitated Romulan, T'Prise watched t'Tamarak silently for a moment before offering an unsolicited piece of advice. "Pacing about and muttering is also counterproductive." Jaiysa glanced down at her, halting her steps abruptly. "Perhaps, but it does serve to eliminate nervous energy." And, apparently, aggravate you, which is worth it in itself. "I am merely informing you that your method exhibiting the irritation that you so evidently feel is ineffectual. It is obvious, doctor, that this place is disturbing to you in some way and even more obvious that you dislike being confined. If you do not wish to dwell on our current circumstances, I would suggest you find a more suitable activity at which to focus your energies." Jaiysa glanced at her sidelong, feeling oddly defensive at T'Prise's description of her emotional response. "This place is designed to be disturbing, rekkhai. And I challenge you to find a person who does not dislike being confined. Even you must find it...unsettling." She delivered the word like a blow. Just because their situation called for discretion didn't mean that the Vulcan officer could pull a superior attitude. Jaiysa did not have the patience for that. Her features remained stoic as the T'Prise continued to appraise the Romulan. "To say that I find this situation 'unsettling' would suggest that I am capable of feeling emotions. I will state emphatically that I would not choose to be held captive if given a choice, but there is nothing I can do at this moment to change the current circumstances." "I know the capabilities of a Vulcan brain, rekkhai; you are perfectly 'capable' of feeling emotions...so do not attempt that particular line with me," Jaiysa said tiredly. "You seem to lack the objectivity required to understand Vulcans and their capabilties. While the mechanisms allowing for them are in place, emotions are more than a physical response. As a Romulan, a descendent of those who rejected all that is logical, will perhaps never understand the balance and control that logic provides." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I believe doctor that continuing this discussion with you would prove to be futile. You are allowed your opinions as I am allowed mine, and I do not believe those will ever be the same opinions. Therefore, it would be prudent to end the discussion," she said dissmissively. Jaiysa growled, hearing an implicit insult in the Vulcan's comments. "I am sure I am hardly the first to tell you this but you are intensely aggravating, rekkhai." Giving the Romulan the equivalent of a Vulcan eyeroll, T'Prise turned away, unwilling to allow herself to be baited into another argument. The cold surface of the metal wall behind her was now seeping through her uniform. Unbidden, a memory of the shuttlecraft Tippecanoe moved to the forefront of her thoughts, of another set of cold metal walls, another circumstance she could not control. With all of her memories of the Wanderlust now intact, the parallels between events were apparent. Pushing it aside, she strove for the inner peace that she had lately been able to achieve through meditation; leaving the memories for further analysis at a later time, she recentered herself, reaching for logic as a foundation. Jaiysa watched the yyaio turn away and sighed. "Fvadt...never mind. Never mind. I just hope we don't spend too long in here; we may drive each other mad." There was a short silence and then she added thoughtfully, with a sudden air of almost clinical interest, as if appraising some new surgical technique, "Perhaps that's their intention..." Her face calm and serene, but her eyes silently betraying a slight hint of dysphoria, T'Prise stared at the Romulan for a moment. "Perhaps you are right, doctor. perhaps you are right." Jaiysa glanced back at her, her eyes narrowing as she searched the Vulcan's expression to see if she was being made fun of. "Well. I'm glad we agree on something, then." An uneasy silence fell between the two as they quietly waited for what ever was to come next. ---- arrienye – Rihan hell diehvir -- robots sseikear – hyena, scavenger (Rihan insult)