04-27-2025, 07:11 PM
Walking was the one thing Art concentrated on fully. One foot… in front… of the other. Left… right… left… right… She chuckled as a memory from childhood popped up: her father, drilling her and her brothers, on the ‘proper’ way to march. Though she was the youngest child, that did not mean he went easy on her.
“Left! Left! Left, right, left! Kaden, keep the pace! L’upo, keep the right distance! Art! What in the name of Gre'thor do you think you’re doing?!”
“Notice he didn’t yell at Ja’rok…” L’upo grumbled under his breath.
“Ja’rok is the only one paying attention!!” Their father yelled and growled at them.
“Break time!” Sang their mother’s sweet voice. It turned instantly when she addressed her brutish Klingon husband. “To’ran, 'aqgh!” She showed him the contents of a large bowl, which from Art’s distance, smelled delicious. Again facing the children, “Wistan gagh!”
Everybody broke formation, and Tor’an laughed, taking the bowl. “Catch me, first!” He challenged, running off for the house. Erica rolled her eyes, grinning as she watched her brood engage in a new game.
They had arrived at Sickbay, and now all Art could think was that she wanted home-made gagh.
“I look bad,” Cassidy told the medical staff that greeted them, “but d’Tor’an was in there longer than I was. She’s your priority.” Art shot him a dirty look, but dutifully got up on the biobed. The feline Ensign was on her in an instant.
“How you doing there, Lieutenant? And please, none of the Klingon bravado for the moment.”
Art growled lighty at her, turning her arms to showcase the extent of the damage. By then, Peter had arrived, and smiled gently at Art after that sentence. “That's going to be a tall order.” He said, directed more towards Art than to Manx.
“It hurts.” Art told the Ensign dryly. She suppressed the urge to reach out a hand to the First Officer.
Then Jensen stepped back, out of the way of the doctors working, and gave both Chiefs a hard look. “What in the name of all of Confucius' nosehairs happened? How long until we know who we just lost?” The look Art gave him back could best be described as confusion and amusement. Where did he come up with these sayings?
“And I'd like as full of a report as I can have.” He added.
Art took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she felt again the tightness her burned skin created across her chest. “Identification is Medical’s job.” She replied, side-eyeing Cassidy. “I’d suggest transporting the one body over… the one I got. Don’t want it to be damaged more by handling it. The other will have to wait to be retrieved once the area is safe.”
To her, the bodies were no longer considered people. Their spirit had gone, leaving behind the husk of what it had once inhabited.
“Do you want me to take off my shirt?” Art asked the Ensign who was treating her. “The uniform is starting to …irritate… the wounds.”
==Taggities!==
“Left! Left! Left, right, left! Kaden, keep the pace! L’upo, keep the right distance! Art! What in the name of Gre'thor do you think you’re doing?!”
“Notice he didn’t yell at Ja’rok…” L’upo grumbled under his breath.
“Ja’rok is the only one paying attention!!” Their father yelled and growled at them.
“Break time!” Sang their mother’s sweet voice. It turned instantly when she addressed her brutish Klingon husband. “To’ran, 'aqgh!” She showed him the contents of a large bowl, which from Art’s distance, smelled delicious. Again facing the children, “Wistan gagh!”
Everybody broke formation, and Tor’an laughed, taking the bowl. “Catch me, first!” He challenged, running off for the house. Erica rolled her eyes, grinning as she watched her brood engage in a new game.
They had arrived at Sickbay, and now all Art could think was that she wanted home-made gagh.
“I look bad,” Cassidy told the medical staff that greeted them, “but d’Tor’an was in there longer than I was. She’s your priority.” Art shot him a dirty look, but dutifully got up on the biobed. The feline Ensign was on her in an instant.
“How you doing there, Lieutenant? And please, none of the Klingon bravado for the moment.”
Art growled lighty at her, turning her arms to showcase the extent of the damage. By then, Peter had arrived, and smiled gently at Art after that sentence. “That's going to be a tall order.” He said, directed more towards Art than to Manx.
“It hurts.” Art told the Ensign dryly. She suppressed the urge to reach out a hand to the First Officer.
Then Jensen stepped back, out of the way of the doctors working, and gave both Chiefs a hard look. “What in the name of all of Confucius' nosehairs happened? How long until we know who we just lost?” The look Art gave him back could best be described as confusion and amusement. Where did he come up with these sayings?
“And I'd like as full of a report as I can have.” He added.
Art took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she felt again the tightness her burned skin created across her chest. “Identification is Medical’s job.” She replied, side-eyeing Cassidy. “I’d suggest transporting the one body over… the one I got. Don’t want it to be damaged more by handling it. The other will have to wait to be retrieved once the area is safe.”
To her, the bodies were no longer considered people. Their spirit had gone, leaving behind the husk of what it had once inhabited.
“Do you want me to take off my shirt?” Art asked the Ensign who was treating her. “The uniform is starting to …irritate… the wounds.”
==Taggities!==