Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - Medical Diplomacy
Carter Schimpff
(OOC: I apologize in advance for the lack of quality and new tags in this sim – my wife surprised me with an extra day of vacation, so I’m writing this on my phone from a Starbucks I found 30 minutes away. I told everyone I needed to go into town to get milk haha.)
(( Underground Tunnels - Kurtûl III ))
Being faced with the Nasciak they had been searching for – the reason their team had been sent into the tunnels beneath Kurtûl III in the first place – still managed to surprise Roy.
Not intellectually. Intellectually, he had known they were close. He had seen the lifesigns on his tricorder. He had watched the distance close by meters and corridor turns until probability had become nearly rude in its insistence.
But there was a difference between detecting a person and standing before them.
A tricorder returned values. Mass. Species markers. Direction. Range. It didn’t capture the way a confrontation changed the air. It didn’t measure pride, grief, command authority, fear disguised as contempt, or the charged silence of people who had all brought weapons and were all pretending not to notice how easily the corridor could become a bloodbath.
Eos: I suggest you return to your ship. By our laws, I could take your blood for your violence and your prejudice against my people :: sighs :: Let the record show that Dota Bundara Eos was merciful: Mercy met with condemnation and prejudice is un unresolvable shame. Retribution must be paid. If a war comes of this, it will be the Federation that bears the blame. Not the Nascaik.
MacKenzie: You wouldn't dare risk war with the Federation.
Cole: ::making eye contact with:: I don’t think any of us are standing here because we want a war, Dota Bundara Eos.
Jaran: Violence between us hasn't happened, and is never inevitable.
Eos: Your Bajora is correct. Captain, I suggest you contain the hubris of your inferior. To disrespect a Dota of the Nascaik is a crime.
One of the other Nasciak raised a PADD-like device and took what appeared to be a holo-image of Cole.
Roy could think of no comforting reason for that.
Still, the fact that no one had fired yet was something. Not peace, exactly. More like a ceasefire balanced on the edge of everyone’s worst assumptions. His hand remained on the grip of his phaser rifle, but he let the tension in his fingers ease by a careful fraction.
A fraction mattered. In medicine, it could be the difference between pressure and rupture. In diplomacy, perhaps the same rule applied.
He cleared his throat.
Bancroft: We do not intend disrespect, Dota Bundara Eos. If offense has been given, I would ask that you attribute it to misunderstanding rather than malice.
MacKenzie slowly shook her head and made a gesture Roy understood immediately.
Lower your weapons.
His barrel was already pointed down and away from every living being in the tunnel. He allowed it to fall more loosely to his side, making the motion deliberate enough to be seen and calm enough not to look like surrender. A fine distinction, but also a useful one.
MacKenzie: We've only ever wanted peace for your people. That's why I helped broker it in the first place. We agree that your people have been the victims of violence here, but you are not alone in that regard, nor do you get to be the sole arbiters of how justice is exerted.
Cole: Help us get to Havun alive. Dead, he becomes a symbol. Alive, he can still answer for what he’s done.
Jaran: You must see that cooperation is in yours and our best interest here.
Eos: You are standing here in breach of Starfleet General Orders 9, 13, 14, 15, 19, and 21. I don’t wish to waste too much time, as I have a Thalaron crisis to deal with as well as the apprehension of the terrorist Havun. But a record has been made.
oO One hundred percent you made those up. Oo
The thought was immediate, uncharitable, and probably incorrect in at least two directions.
Eos raised her fist.
For the smallest heartbeat, Roy’s body prepared for the command to fire. He felt the old animal math of it: distance, angles, cover, MacKenzie’s position, Cole’s likely first target, Jira beside him, his own rifle suddenly much heavier in his hand.
Then the Nasciak soldiers lowered their weapons with practiced military crispness.
Roy allowed himself to breathe.
Bancroft: It seems we share a mission – the Thalaron is a primary concern of ours.
MacKenzie: Response
Cole: You want accountability, so do we. We can still stop him without making this tunnel the start of something worse.
The Nasciak weapons snapped back up.
Roy felt the reflex like a spark down his arm, his hand tightening toward the grip of his rifle. He stopped himself before the motion became visible. Or at least before it became visible enough to matter.
He was proud of that.
Small mercies, small disciplines. Sometimes they prevented large funerals.
Jaran: That wasn't a threat, regardless of how her face may be set.
Eos: Perhaps she should remain quiet. Or she may find herself in breach of our laws. To threaten a Dota is punishable by imprisonment :: she glanced to the archivist who made more notes :: I assume she does not speak for you in this matter Captain? It is wasting mine and your time? That can be another matter for me to raise with the FDC at DS224.
oO Okay, perhaps she didn’t make up all those general orders. What is she, a walking rule book? Oo
With another raised fist, Eos’ soldiers lowered their weapons again.
Roy kept his mouth shut – a useful medical intervention known colloquially as ‘not making the bleeding worse’.
The question had been addressed to MacKenzie. Opening his own mouth at that particular juncture would almost certainly convert friction into flame, and while Roy had many talents, he preferred not to demonstrate that particular one today.
MacKenzie: Response
A trill came from one of their tricorders.
Jaran: That's a warning. I'm going to open my tricorder. It's not a weapon.
Cole: I'd love for that to be a “Improve my day” kind of alert.
Eos: Do it :: she indicated to her officers to remain at peace ::
Roy knew Jira well enough to hear the change in their voice.
Concern.
Not the mild kind that meant a lab value was irritating. The other kind. The kind that meant the room had just acquired an invisible hazard and everyone was standing squarely inside its radius.
Keeping his body oriented toward Eos and her soldiers, Roy took one measured step closer to Jaran.
Bancroft: What’re you seeing, Jira?
MacKenzie/Cole: Response
Jaran: I know we're all having a moment right now, but I'm reading elevated levels of thalaron radiation in the corridor.
The word moved through Roy like cold water under a door.
Thalaron.
There were dangerous words in medicine. Hemorrhage. Sepsis. Cascade failure. Necrosis. Radiation. Each had its own particular gravity. Thalaron had a gravity all its own, because it did not merely imply injury. It implied erasure at the cellular level. A body unmade by physics with no patience for prayer.
Cole: We can go back to disagreeing with each other after we're no longer standing in something that kills everyone equally.
Eos shook her head in apparent disgust.
Roy had not fully drawn a bead on the Nasciak leader yet, but one thing had become obvious: Dota Bundara Eos did not like Lieutenant Natasha Cole.
Archivist: It has been noted to the record of law.
Eos: Move.
Two by two, the Nasciak soldiers filed past the Starfleet contingent at a trot.
Jaran: I suggest we move before this reaches a dangerous level. Levels are rising as we speak.
Cole: Survival is as good an incentive as any to cooperate.
Eos turned back to regard Captain MacKenzie.
Eos: Our orders are to prevent an incident with the Thalaron radiation. I hope that I don’t have to explain to you the level of destruction we are facing. We have nine worlds that rely on the trade routes through this sector of space. That is billions of Nascaik lives.
A chill ran straight from Roy’s tailbone up to his neck.
Bancroft: Three of the four of us are physicians. Healers, not soldiers, ma’am.
He winced inwardly.
Ma’am had emerged on reflex, drilled into him by Starfleet, Southern upbringing, and the part of his brain that attempted courtesy even during armed standoffs. He had no idea whether a Nasciak Dota would hear respect or insult.
Too late now.
Bancroft: We understand the danger. Preserving lives – Nasciak, Federation, Da’al, anyone caught in the path of this – is not peripheral to our mission. It is the mission.
MacKenzie/Jaran: Response
Cole: You don’t need to agree with us. You don’t need to even like us, but you have to see we’re all in the same blast radius.
Eos: That’s the only thing that has made sense from this inferior since she first spoke, Captain.
oO Good. We can build on this. Oo
Bancroft: Jira, how are the levels looking?
MacKenzie/Jaran: Response
Cole: Then let's move before we get ashy.
Eos: Straight ahead. There’s a stairwell that leads to a lower section. We suspect that whatever experiments have been happening here, they’ve been using Thalaron :: cursed under breath :: That's where they store it.
Eos paused as they neared the shaft.
Roy glanced down the shaft, then back to Eos.
Bancroft: If that is where they store it, then we should assume containment is either compromised or soon will be. We should also assume Havun knows exactly what that means.
Cole/MacKenzie/Jaran: Response
Eos: I must insist that you return to your ship, Captain. This is not posturing :: looked to Cole :: This is our battle and you may not want to believe this, but the Nascaik are not your enemy here. Never have been :: again, looked at the aggressive ones :: I don’t want to see you or your team killed.
For the first time, Roy believed the last sentence without qualification.
It wasn’t softness. Eos didn’t suddenly become warm, or gentle, or remotely pleasant. But concern did not always arrive wearing kindness. Sometimes it arrived as command, as contempt sharpened by responsibility, as a warning delivered by someone who would rather be obeyed than understood.
He respected that.
Bancroft: Dota, our own people are down here somewhere – not for violence, but for the same reason you are. To prevent thalaron from destroying lives beyond counting. We are duty-bound to support them. And if we leave now, we abandon both them and the chance to help you stop this before it becomes the incident all of us are trying to prevent.
Cole/MacKenzie/Jaran: Response
Eos: :: sighs :: Very well but do not fire weapons down there. You’ll kill us all. Your doctor should treat you for the radiation. If they aren't capable, I can have my scientist do it.
There it was.
A door.
Narrow, bristling, probably trapped with pride on both hinges, but open.
Roy stepped into it carefully.
Bancroft: That’s a very generous offer, thank you. It is appreciated. We brought prophylaxis, but I would value coordination with your scientist. Would you consent to Dr. Jaran and me working in partnership with them to keep everyone here as safe as possible?
It wasn’t merely practical, though it was certainly that too. Thalaron exposure didn’t care about uniforms, legal records, old grievances, or who had called whom inferior in the last five minutes.
But it was also diplomacy in one of its older forms: accept help without surrendering competence, offer collaboration without demanding trust, and give the other party the dignity of being necessary.
If Eos agreed, then for at least one small, critical task, Starfleet and Nasciak would stop facing one another and begin facing the same problem.
Cole/MacKenzie/Jaran/Eos: Response
Roy nodded and gestured for Jira to begin preparing the inoculations.
Bancroft: These will prevent the worst of any Thalaron exposure we may experience. ::a beat:: But we should still move quickly.
Cole/MacKenzie/Jaran/Eos: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1