Lieutenant JG Ras El'Heem - The Weight of a Half Pip Pt.2
Ras El'Heem
((USS Ouchita, Docked in Shuttlebay, Deck 2, USS Khitomer))
The atmosphere in the Danube class was mildly charged. The coldness of the half-alive Khitomer was left outside as the doors to the runabout were closed. In fact, the whir of the boot up sequence of the Ouchita imposed a warmth underfoot that was reassuring and the coziness that presented itself when a man of his stature stood in the cockpit was almost comforting. He loomed behind the two ensigns as they ran through their checklists, his right hand flat against the ceiling.
Michaels: :: turning to Ras :: I assume that you are in charge of this little excursion. Shall we go?
The doctor met Michael’s gaze.
El'Heem: Aye, I am. ::determination creeping across his face.:: We shall. Prix?
Prix: Response
Michaels: What is the status of this craft?
Prix: Response
Ras nodded towards Prix and then turned his eyes to the window ahead.
El'Heem: Helm. ::pausing:: take us out.
As the shuttle began to lift, only slightly less gracefully than if it weren’t being manually operated, Ras pushed his hand harder into the ceiling to steady himself. The dorsum of his hand flushed as the weight of what’s coming settled in. He watched the nebula’s colors paint a vivid scene of what exactly space looked like when it wasn’t empty. The smattering of exotic hues were insignias that all represented different things.
Red. Shayne. Somewhere recovering from his medically stupid, but perhaps tactically sound self-medication. Out of harm’s way, probably. And Captain Hobart, filling the boots that Shayne left on the doorstep, somehow maintaining his composure just like he always did when it counted. When it didn’t that was another story.
Yellow. He looked at Lera as she sat watching the same view he did. Logical to a fault but with Terran humanity sprinkled in the most endearing way. He wondered if the same existentialism swam through her thoughts as it did in his. Connor, a man who he once seen as intimidating, but Ras had somehow worked his way into that soft nougaty center. The somehow was booze, pasta, and determination, he figured. Ezra, the first of the three amigos. Prone to accident and getting into the most ridiculous situations. It was charming and it was hard not to appreciate the man.
Blue. His chief and mentor, Talia. The woman who first set him on his path becoming the medical officer he’d been able to become. Ayemet, who shared her trauma with him when she hardly knew him, bonding much faster than he’d expected he could with someone. Amelia, another woman who cemented herself as her comrade ‘quick enough to make yer head spin.’ He almost chuckled at the southern accent bouncing in his head. And how the smell of wildflowers wouldn’t just remind him of Sylvana Prime anymore. Richard, the second of the three amigos. Mischief dripped from his ears, but he was one of the most reliable people Ras knew. He’d take a phaser for the man. Hell, he’d take a phaser for them all. It was almost like what he was doing, in a way. Not as direct, but a big singularity powered phaser was aimed in their general direction and if they’d made any sudden moves, it just might fire. He touched his own blue collar and felt the fabric between his fingers.
Ras took his eyes off the nursery and watched the Vulcan walk past him to the airlock. She nervously inspected the EVA suit and then slumped down facing it. He turned and walked behind her, crouching down to level with her smaller frame and squeezed her shoulder.
El'Heem: You alright Michaels?
What a dumb question. No order was given, suggesting that she would be the one to approach the probe. Still, the assumption hung in the air. She was the engineer.
Michaels: I am fine. I am just tired and considering what is coming up momentarily. :: beat :: Did I tell you how much my relatives on Vulcan enjoyed the tea you recommended?
Ras removed his hand and sat all the way down.
El'Heem: Ah ::chuckling:: the Liu Bao. I never did ask how that went.
The conversation dripped with uneasy sentimentality.
Michaels: They enjoyed it. A great deal. I owe you for that.
El'Heem: We can call it square when you come back from disabling the probe.
Prix: Response
Michaels: I need to get this suit on. Will you lend me your assistance?
Ras sat for a moment, considering the subtext of their conversation.
El'Heem: ::standing and offering a hand to Michaels.:: Of course, ensign.
Prix: Response
As he helped her into the suit, he watched their approach to the probe.
Michaels: My recommendation is that you position Ouchita between me and the anomaly. That will shield me from anything coming from the anomaly. I also recommend not being located between the probe and Khitomer. There is a possibility that the probe will fire again, and that will almost certainly be at Khitomer.
Prix: Response.
He nodded towards Prix holding the EVA helmet in his hands. He stared at the reflection in it for a moment and shifted his eyes towards Michael’s reflection who stared fiercely at the probe out the window. He gently tapped it against his head and placed it over her head.
Michaels: =/\= Final communications check. =/\=
Prix: =/\= Response =/\=
Michaels: =/\= Very good. Wish me luck, then. =/\= oO I will need it Oo
El’Heem: ::Low enough, Michaels couldn’t hear through her helmet.:: Luck won’t have anything to do with it.
Ras watched the engineer turn and enter the airlock. Only
seconds went by before she was out the outer door and could no longer be seen
through the airlock window. He turned and walked back to Prix’s side and slid
into the seat.
El’Heem: Keep her steady, pilot. I don’t have any readings on what’s going on with that singularity, but we’re not taking any chances. If Michaels drifts too far off course for whatever reason, you shift the Ouchita to keep her out of harms way.
Prix: Response
Michaels drifted into sight and approached the probe without any evident hesitation.
El’Heem: =/\= Ouchita to Hobart. We have arrived at the probe and ensign Michaels is approaching in EVA. =/\=
Prix/Hobart: =/\= Response =/\=
El’Heem: =/\= Aye. I’ll keep you updated, sir. El’Heem out.=/\=
Michaels maneuvered as if she knew exactly what she was doing, communicating with the other Vulcan or commander Dewitt, no doubt. Ras leaned on the station in front of him, his fingers meeting in a steeple as he touched them to his chin. His eyes didn’t leave the EVA suit.
Prix: Response
He cleared his throat and said nothing for a long protracted silence.
El’Heem: She knows what she’s doing. ::pausing again:: still ::trailing off.
Ras tapped his commbadge.
El’Heem: =/\= Ouchita to Michaels. =/\=
The response took a moment. He continued to stare at Michaels through the window.
Michaels/Prix: =/\= Response =/\=
El’Heem: =/\= I’m suiting up. If anything feels like it’s going to go south, I’ll be ready to get you back aboard as fast as possible. Keep us in the loop, ensign. =/\=
Before he got a response, Ras stood and moved to the back of the ship, to the second EVA suit and began donning it.
Michaels/Prix: =/\= Response =/\=
Tags/TBC
Lieutenant JG Ras El’Heem
Medical Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
K240106RE3