MSNPC Jiah Kleebohn - What Do You Mean, "I'm in Charge?"

[notyourfrog]

((Da'al, Outskirts of Vman, SD 240002.19, Evening))

The alert had spread like a Gilfivic wildfire. Jiah had watched the reports as they came in with her husband Telin. They hadn't known how to tell Yarulia of the incident. Thousands already confirmed dead, and the number continuing to climb. How much could they expect the child to process?

When the communications set chimed, she jumped. Everything seemed to make her jump right now. Telin made to answer it, but she laid a slender-fingered hand on his arm, and rose from the cushions and strode to the set. Lifting the private communications handset to her ear, she could talk with whomever was contacting her without the fear of Yarulia overhearing. Telin, still seated, had turned to watch his wife's reaction, trying desperately to gauge her response.

Jiah: I see. ... In Vman? ... Yes, I underst- ... What!? ... That can't be right. ALL of them? What about Mithroe Ulen? ... And Watlea Motrell? ... So you're saying ... I understand. Yes, minister. ... I wish it were under better circumstances, but thank you, sir. ... Yes, sir. Goodbye.

When she set the handset down, her long legs - usually so graceful - gave out, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap. Within seconds, Telin was there with his arm around his love.

Telin: What is it, Ji? Who was that?

Jiah: ::looking at him through tear-filled eyes:: They're all dead, 'Lin.

Telin: ::pause:: Who are?

Jiah: Mithroe, Watlea, Guyvni, Ploaf, and Hronas. They're all dead.

Telin mulled the implications of this information for a moment before responding.

Telin: But ... that would mean ... you're -

Jiah: ::finishing the statement:: the Chief Disaster Response Coordinator of Relief Efforts. ::darkly:: Congratulate me, 'Lin. I just got promoted straight to the top.

((Vman, Palace of Culture - Relief Effort Basecamp, Timeskip - 240002.21))

Exhausted, filthy, thirsty, and muscles sore beyond anything she'd ever experienced in her life, Jiah plodded back to the shelter and shade of the Palace's courtyard. The first teams had stretched an oversized canvass over the mosaic tile, creating an open tent feel to the area, which gave Jiah a prime view of the devastation before her. So many people had died immediately. She couldn't help but think they'd been the lucky ones. What about the ones still trapped in the rubble? It had been almost 3 days since the impact. If there were survivors, their time was nearly up.

Jiah ran a damp cloth over her face and neck, not as much cleaning herself as making herself slightly less of a mess. She'd received word that aid was on the way in the form of a Federation starship. The Armistace or Artiface or Artemis - that was is. The USS Artemis was coming to help. It was with a tinge of irritation she'd acknowledged the message. Sure they needed help, but what could one ship of fancy-dressed Federation people do? Could they bring back the now 11,244 confirmed dead?

Jiah: ::to a nearby aid:: Any word from our guests?

Aid: They will be arriving in approximately 1 hour, ma'am.

"Ma'am." She still wasn't used to that. She still wasn't used to people asking HER for orders or asking HER which sector to clear next. She wasn't used to the dirt. She wasn't used to the back-breaking labor. She wasn't used to the sounds of wailing day and night as one family member after another found someone they loved among the seemingly endless piles of broken stone and tile. She wasn't ready for this job, but she didn't have a choice.

Giving up on the "cleaning" effort, she tossed the cloth onto a stool, twisted her torso in the vain attempt to loosen the ch'mol strings her back muscles now felt like, and walked back out into the sun.

Jiah: ::shouting to the aid:: Call me when they arrive. We can't sit around waiting for them.

END SCENE

Jiah Kleebohn
Da'al Disaster Response Coordinator

MSNPC simmed by:
Ensign Hiro Jones, USS Artemis-A
E239510KD0