#ltbroccoli

(moved from here)

@ltbroccoli

“Narrow? You... you think the Federation worldview is... narrow?” Reg blinked -- he knew Liz didn’t hold the Federation in the highest regard, but that was still harsher than he expected. “Can... can I ask... why...?”

Oh dear, that was a very complicated answer. One Liz was certain couldn’t be summed up in a simple, easily digestible way. Maybe, she thought, it would have been better not to say anything at all. Reg could be a bit fragile and she had been a bit harsh. But, on the other hand, he needed to see the truth sooner or later. 

If it hadn’t been for his excellent grades and performance at the Academy, Nathanael doubted he would have been transferred straight to the Enterprise, but he was. The ship was amazing and so far everyone had been friendly, no one even seemed to care about his ridges. Though, he probably should’ve guessed that wouldn’t be a problem since they had an android and a Klingon as officers, neither being common on other Starfleet ships.

With him still being new, he had a lot to learn about the personnel on board. So when the medical staff on duty began whispering and trying to decide who should take care of the lieutenant who had just walked in, Nat volunteered. Yes, he did understand that there was something with this man that the others found bothersome, but he wanted to meet as many of the officers on board as possible. Wanted to get to know them a bit. Plus, he found the others’ behaviour quite distasteful.

   Sirise’s never really wished for her tongue back, but right now, she thinks the strange weight on the bottom of her mouth would be welcome.

   It’d be welcome, so she could talk through the door. 

   Because, of course, a person with no tongue can’t speak through a sealed door and tell whoever it is to go away, to leave her be. And maybe it’s not even a function of being mute — maybe it’s just a function of being a doctor, forever in servitude, even though all of her edges are sharp and venomous. 

   The door opens, and Sirise stands there in an oversized sweater with a turtleneck collar, a favorite of hers. Her hair sits atop her head in a messy bun, and there’s a streak of green on her cheeks that looks suspiciously like Orion blood. 

   Her eyes are flat, unfascinated by the interrupting. It’s Reg, bent like a small child even though he towered above most. Like always. 

Tal’kaela stirred, wincing with pain as her ears rang loudly. Her fingers twitched as she started slowly regaining feeling in her body, and she realized she was laying in something sticky and warm. With effort, she pulled her eyes open. Blood. Though, it was difficult to tell what color in the low light. Could be normal, or it could be red. ...red... why would it be...? Slowly, her memories began returning to her. She had been going somewhere with Reg... some planetary museum. Yes, that’s right. He hadn’t seen her since her training, and they wanted to spend time together. Since she could reestablish contact with him without rousing suspicions, she had decided to dedicate some time to reconnecting with him. After some digging, they had found a museum that was located on a planet with a hostile environment. The museum was only moderately popular, and was really more of a research station than a proper museum, but visitors were allowed in certain sections, and even given a chance to do some volunteer work. It was a good way to try something new without being around too many people, which Tal knew made Reg anxious, so they had decided to go once Reg had some leave.

The planet, from what Tal’kaela had researched, had a toxic environment, very little flora or fauna, but an abundance of fungi. As she very slowly regained more of her senses, she could hear the very distant sound of rain on soggy ground, and she remembered that the surface of this planet was almost constantly experiencing some sort of toxic storms. Because of this, it was difficult to beam visitors directly into the research station, so they’d instead suit them up ahead of time and beam them just outside, where they would be greeted by one of the scientists, shown inside, and given a tour. As they were getting suited up, Tal seemed to remember Reg mentioning that he was, at one time, deathly afraid of transporters. With such a complicated transport, she was glad that he wasn’t anymore, or this would no doubt be impossible. Landing a ship in these conditions would be a nightmare. 

As she slowly regained awareness, Tal’kaela took in her surroundings. Damp rock walls glistened with the soft light of glowing blue plants. Grass-like plants seemed to reach towards the dank ceiling overhead, where more glowing things seemed to be growing. As Tal’kaela tried to feel the grass underneath her, she was aware that she was still wearing thick gloves. She must still be in the suit. Slowly and painfully, she raised her arm to check the sensor on her wrist:

Raxxon III Temperature: 5°C Toxicity: 2% Humidity: 58%

Tal’kaela frowned. That didn’t seem right; the surface of Raxxon III was far more toxic than that, though she hadn’t retained the average temperature or humidity. She wondered if Reg would-- 

The thought suddenly hit her, as she remembered the sticky blood she had been laying in earlier. If something had happened to her, then something might have happened to him, too. Against her better judgement, she sat up suddenly, her head spinning and her vision going black as she tried to look around. “REG!” Her voice cracked with desperation as she tried to blink away the fog that blocked her vision.

“You are exactly like the Doctor described. It’s great to finally meet you.” After hearing excruciating detail every detail about The Doctor’s trip to the Alpha Quadrant, Kes already considered Lieutenant Barclay an old friend.

Honestly, he was surprised that Zimmerman even let him be involved. It wasn’t really his call, and Brack knew that. If Zimmerman had his way, no other living organic being would be allowed in his lab. He even detested that assistant that Starfleet gave him. That timid kid...Reginald? Brack only knew his name from Zimmerman yelling it all the time. He must have snapped at the guy every twenty minutes about something or other.

He promised he’d work in his own lab - that was easier anyway since he wasn’t allowed to touch anything in Zimmerman’s - but what was the harm in having a sort of pre-project shindig just so they were on the right track for what to work on?

Part of being a gym leader was rolling with the punches, so to speak. And this particular punch had been a very excited Timburr breaking one of the gym’s puzzles. The extremely apologetic trainer had offered to pay for the repairs, but Hugh had shooed her away. He had insurance to cover this, it was nothing. 

He had even allowed her to finish her challenge, where she was soundly beaten by Milly the Leavanny. 

After some more reassurance and the promise of a rematch, the trainer was sent on her way.

Now Hugh waited outside with his Crobat, Beloved, for the mechanic he had reached out to.

The sun glinted off one of the remaining Borg implants on Hugh’s face, and he absently wished for some cloud cover. Sometimes the implants were so reflective he wondered if he didn’t blind random passersby. 

“We don’t have any trainers scheduled for tomorrow,” he told Beloved. “Might be a good chance to do full maintenance anyway. Good timing!”

Beloved squeaked in agreement and he rubbed his finger under her chin.