Ensign Roy Bancroft - The Gazelle and the Cube

[Carter Schimpff]

(( Deck 7 – USS Artemis-A ))

Bancroft: ::wheezing cheerfully:: Sorry about that – er, actually, I don’t know your name. I’m new here. Ensign Bancroft, Medical.

She gave him a look that sparkled just a little, then picked up her pace.

He followed. Barely. His legs already hated him, and his lungs were close to filing a formal complaint.

Munro: ::between breaths:: You don’t know your own patient’s, Doctor? That’s a little concerning?

Bancroft: ::grinning, gasping:: In my defense, you haven’t puked on me, lectured me, or tried to blow me up. That’s usually how I learn names around here.

He thought he heard a snort from her – although it might just have been his own heavy breathing. Either way, he was going to count it as a win. Or at least not a loss.

Munro: I wonder what the First Officer would think about that?

She adjusted her ponytail, a motion that was somehow both casual and precise. She sped up. He tried to match her stride.

And very nearly died.

Bancroft: ::gasping out each syllable:: I assume they'd recommend a full psyche eval. Or at the very least, a mandatory class on small talk etiquette.

Every muscle in his legs was screaming. His lungs felt like they were auditioning for a role in a fire suppression training holo. His shirt was clinging to him in ways that violated multiple sections of the uniform code.

But he was still here. Somehow.

Munro: Ava Munro, your new XO. Where did you learn to keep pace? The Academy?

Roy very nearly tripped.

Bancroft: ::deadpan, dying inside:: Ah, of course, you're the new XO. That tracks. ::beat:: Well, in that case, let me just formally apologize for my entire conversational strategy thus far, ma’am. ::pushing his own pace to keep up:: For better or worse, I seem to never know when to stop digging deeper.

He shot her a grin. Somewhere between charming and “please don’t demote me mid-sprint.” He wondered whether the double-meaning of his last words would land through all the huffing and wheezing.

Bancroft: But yes. Academy. Plus a few years of stress-fueled jogging after that. Amazing what a little internalized pressure can do for your VO2 max.

They rounded another bend, passing a repair crew who looked up just in time to see the Artemis’ new XO and a terminally winded junior doctor sprinting past them like something out of a fitness propaganda holo.

Roy stole a glance sideways. She was still pushing the pace. Her form was perfect. Her stride effortless, like some sort of gazelle.

His own stride was best described as ‘swiftly rolling cube’.

Still, he didn’t fall back. Yet.

Bancroft: ::wryly:: This is my first posting. Do all command officers haze their med staff with sprints, or is this just the deluxe welcome package?

Munro: Response

TAG/TBC!

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Ensign Roy Bancroft

Medical Officer

USS Artemis-A

A240205RB1