Taeval - Welcome to Borgville
Quinn Reynolds
((Sickbay, Deck 7, USS Gorkon))
It was, perhaps, a small mercy there were no windows in sickbay. That design choice had granted its occupants a few more minutes of precious, blissful ignorance before reality—their new reality—had come crashing down. The Admiral had spoken of a changed timeline, and a galaxy which was now Borg. Barely able to comprehend how such a thing had happened, the white noise in Taeval's head had swallowed up the rest of her message. He'd replayed it later, in an attempt to take it all in.
The Federation often seemed to think the Borg was their implacable foe, and perhaps with good reason; he’d heard stories of Wolf 359 and the Collective’s attempt to change the course of Earth’s history, among others. But they were far from the Borg’s sole focus—the Star Empire had lost colonies, outposts, and ships. Had their own fierce battles with cubes. Even captured one, cracking it open like a geode for the precious knowledge and materials within.
And those were the events he knew about. With the Romulan proclivity for keeping secrets, there was good reason to suspect his people had many more interactions with the Borg. Even more reason to dread what the nature of those interactions might be.
In other words, he had as much reason to be afraid as anyone else. Fear and grief ran through the ship like an electric current, charging the expressions on everyone’s faces. He let himself feel it without guilt or shame; he was Romulan, and emotions were to be embraced, not denied. But nor were Romulans weak, and weakness was to allow emotions to overwhelm the rational mind.
So he worked. Trying not to let the images of a red-haired Romulan girl, her skin white and scarred with cybernetics, get in the way of attending to his patients and duties. Thankfully, there was always something to do in sickbay, and so he set about stock taking their medicines and drawing up a list of what they should replicate now in case resources grew sparse later.
He was working through a list of their rare blood supplies when the sickbay doors opened, admitting two unfamiliar faces, both in medical blue with a single pip at their collar. One Vulcan, and one Bajoran. The former tall and dark-haired, as his people often were. The latter was shorter, with blonde hair and blue eyes, reminding Taeval—painfully—of Atomo. What had happened to that bright little boy in this universe? It was a grim turn of affairs when the best one could hope for was he’d never been born at all.
Taeval: Ah, Ensigns Solkon and Nera, I presume? Our new doctors. ::His welcome smile was threadbare, dimmed by circumstance.:: I’m Taeval, I’m a physician’s assistant here.
The Romulan let the lack of rank and uniform speak for itself. He was a civilian, working with Starfleet rather than a part of it.
Solkon / Nera: Response
Taeval: Our acting chief is Lieutenant Tali Namura. ::There was a knowing look in his green eyes, as if there was an inside joke the pair would soon be in on.:: She’s in a meeting with the senior staff, but that should finish soon.
Solkon / Nera: Response
He paused, looking at the pair. As difficult as it was for many of them to handle, he couldn’t imagine being plunged into this as a younger adult, fresh from their schooling with little experience of life outside of education. Though as he thought that, he remembered witnessing the destruction of his homeworld around a similar age—and there had been no hope of reversing that and returning to the way things were. Here, there was hope, and that was a powerful thing.
Taeval: How are you holding up? Our current situation is a lot for anyone to take in.
Solkon / Nera: Response
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Physician Assistant
USS Gorkon
simmed by
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
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