Ensign Roy Bancroft - What the Galaxy Decides to Teach Us
Carter Schimpff
(( Second Promenade, Upper Level, Observation Alcove - Deep Space 224 ))
The stars beyond the viewport hung in careful silence – beautiful, distant, and wholly uninterested in human affairs.
Roy adjusted his posture slightly – not that it mattered. You didn’t correct your posture around Fleet Captain Addison MacKenzie. You offered it, like a small woodland creature presenting its neck and hoping for the best.
Bancroft: Galaris left a mark, no question. But then… so do all the best lessons. ::a beat, wry:: Turns out, the fastest way to grow as a doctor and an officer is through dangerous situations, uncomfortable choices, and the occasional no-win scenario. ::pause:: The method leaves a bit to be desired – but the outcome? That part sticks.
She made a face – unreadable, but distinctly from the family of ‘that’s enough out of you’ – and turned back to the stars.
MacKenzie: I’m sorry you’re not a fan of my methods, but as you’ll soon discover, we rarely get a say in how the galaxy decides to teach us…whatever it is it decides we need to know. …If you haven’t made that discovery already, that is.
He winced internally. Not at the correction – that part was expected – but at the realization that the universe had once again managed to use him as both a cautionary tale and a case study.
Bancroft: ::gently:: To clarify, ma’am – I meant the universe’s methods, not yours. ::a beat:: Yours have, at the very least, shown consistent outcomes and minimal civilian casualties.
She tilted her head – dismissively, maybe. Or philosophically. Or perhaps deliberating on which part of his anatomy she’d begin her live vivisection.
It was difficult to tell with someone who probably had her own subsection of the Starfleet Command Manual labeled ‘Command Presence, Weaponized’.
MacKenzie: A shame about Dr. Sadar. That was a lesson that had to be learned the hard way, unfortunately.
Her words landed like a dropped exoscalpel on the floor of an operating theater – not dramatic, but with heavy finality. Roy let the weight of it settle before answering.
Bancroft: I don’t know exactly what happened there, ma’am, and I imagine if I should, someone will let me know in due course.
That earned him a sharper look. Eyes narrowing like an aperture – zeroing in, focusing.
MacKenzie: Why have you sought me out, Doctor Bancroft?
The question arrived with the grace of a thrown scalpel – and roughly the same level of threat.
He cleared his throat and tilted his chin up a micron.
Bancroft: Primarily to pay you the respect due by formally reporting in, ma’am. ::a pause, glancing sidelong at the stars:: Though I appreciate the timing and venue are less than ideal.
MacKenzie: Response
Well. No vaporization. Yet.
Promising.
He pressed on, pushing past the urge to politely evaporate.
Bancroft: Additionally, ma’am – your specialty is microsurgery. That happens to be mine as well. ::carefully, with a thread of dry humor:: And while I understand your role comes with very limited bandwidth for recreational mentorship of Starfleet’s freshest produce… I’d be grateful for the opportunity to learn under your guidance, even occasionally.
MacKenzie: Response
Her expression was unreadable to him – and somehow, that was worse. With a scowl, you knew where you stood. With this mask? He might as well begin authoring his eulogy.
Bancroft: I wouldn’t presume to know the full answer to that yet, ma’am. ::beat:: But I know enough to recognize the value of proximity to excellence. If there’s even a fraction of your skill or judgement that can be learned, I’d be remiss not to try. ::a pause:: I realize I haven’t exactly built a reputation yet, ma’am – but I hold myself to a high standard. This crew deserves the best, and I intend to exceed that.
MacKenzie: Response
TAG/TBC!
===
Ensign Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1