Lieutenant JG Amelia Semara - One Big Monologue

[Max]

(( XO's Office, Deck 1, USS Khitomer ))

Not even one second on her own, and Amelia's brain unspooled and left her body behind.  Hobart had been no help at all.  Worse, really, but she'd left that particular suitcase of questions behind for the moment and returned to a prior one.  One that wouldn't stow quite so properly on account of its odd, circular dimensions.

Mercifully, Amelia's legs still seemed to know what to do because the rest of her sure didn't.  One moment she was talking to Hobart in the conference room, and the next she was leaning on a wall next to a panel staring at a diagram of the Sencha Dispersion Array in the XO's office.  She wasn't even sure how she got there.  She'd just numbly followed behind the Chief Engineer (who was apparently the second officer) who'd been waiting for her. Unfortunately, the diagram didn't really mean anything to her at the moment other than a bunch of pretty swirly colors she could stare at and have him plausibly assume she was working.

She was not working.

She was far too busy picking at the new hollow pip at her neck like it was the quadrant's worst pimple, submerged in a heaping pile of questions that had nothing to do with the potentially life-saving technology on screen.

C. Dewitt: Response

The Chief Engineer's voice seemed to call at her from under water.  Her eyes flit away from the screen, and his eyes looked at her expectantly.  As if being bestowed with new rank had also bestowed her with answers to life's great questions.  In reality, it had only piled more unknowns on top of everything else.  Her eyes adjusted, and the dull thrumming of the ship and the empathic scents and sensations beyond the office walls came whipping back into focus as she broke out from underneath the reflecting pool of her own thoughts she'd been drowning in.

Semara: Huh?

Not a very ladylike response, but then it was even less ladylike to be so lost in thought that she had no idea what had just been said to her.  The only good news was that disappointing her mama on points of etiquette was pretty close to the bottom of her concerns right now.

C. Dewitt: Response

She looked down at her hand at her neck and forced herself to stop fussing.  On second thought, the pip was less a pimple and more like a nasty bug bite.  The swelling hadn't gone down yet.  She straightened out herself and her skants uniform and took a deep breath.

Semara: :: A polite smile :: Thanks.

Well that was hardly convincing...  She stared guiltily at her superior officer, like she was a little girl who'd been caught picking the peas out of her food.

C. Dewitt: Response

Semara: Sorry.  It's just... :: A big sigh. ::  Oh heavens...  Don't they usually only give these at the end a' mission?

Only the first of many questions she had, and this was one she was pretty sure she already knew the answer to: "Yes."  Still, it would lend a certain sense of reality to the situation to hear it from someone else.  She was a walking breach of protocol.

C. Dewitt: Response

She couldn't hold onto it anymore.  It was going to come all spilling out whether she wanted it to or not.  Better to let it out now with someone she at least trusted enough.

Semara: And to think.  I was havin' such a nice day just three hours ago...  :: Starting to pace :: Then I got a bunch of classified documents for no reason I knew about while under comms blackout.  Turns out they're all 'bout Sencha Radiation and how it's basically nightmare fuel for telepaths...  How is no one talkin' 'bout the fact Sencha Radiation is a potential link between telepathy and time travel, by the way?  I get to do some of that research, so that's pretty awesome, I guess, but how the heck do I have the classified documents I shouldn't have?  Well, turns out that's because I'm project lead, again for no apparent reason - at first.  Hey there, ensigns!  It's me!  Your junior pal with less tenure aboard tellin' you what to do!  Then again, we're workin' on a defense against the nightmare fuel, so that's pretty cool, too.  :: Pacing faster ::  Finally, to put a nice ol' bow on it, here's an honest-to-goddesses promotion out of nowhere!  No time for questions, have fun explainin' that to everyone.  I mean... what happened?  :: Increasingly unhinged :: Did I do something wrong?  Or did I do something right?  Did Shayne want me to have this, and somethin' happened?  Or he didn't want me promoted, and Hobart didn't get the memo?  I mean, sure I had the postin' 'fore this, but I'm not even on a first name basis with anyone here!  :: Beat :: 'Cept Lieutenant Croix.  Kinda.  He strikes me the casual sort, though.  :: Stopping and straightening at a terrible thought :: He better not have promoted me cuz he felt bad...  I'm gonna be so mad at him if this has anythin' to do with the dance or... :: A guilty glance :: other reasons.  :: Beat :: And just what am I s'posed to tell Ensign Cain... or more important, Michaels?  If I were her, I'd be feelin' all kinds a' things.  Not all of 'em nice, necessarily.  :: Practically squeaking ::  Oh, and, ain't no time to think or process any of it!  No time to go for a run or a hike and straighten myself out or square up... Get to work, and don't mess up!

She finally stopped to gulp down air into her sore chest when she caught the look on Dewitt's face and the empathic tornado siren of concern going off inside of him.  Her head cleared a little.  Amazing what a little oxygen can do for a person that relies on it to keep on living.  She took another breath simply because she forgot how good the taste of air was somewhere in the middle of her diatribe.  Then, promptly realizing how foolish she was being, she flushed bright red, and started chuckling low.  The strange noise turned into an odd, manic giggle of equal parts relief and embarrassment.

She finally came back down to the gravity plating with a couple more breaths.

Semara: I am so.  Sorry.  :: Chuckling and shaking her head with her hands held out in supplication. :: I didn't mean to give you one big monologue.  Seems I keep doin' that to you.  Embarassin'...  Not at all befittin' a Lady or an officer.  Maybe I've been too long away from other Betazoids.  I just start thinkin' out loud!  :: A frustrated hand gesture. ::  Trust me, that would'a been over a lot faster telepathically.  And here I am still talkin'!  Just get a hypospray already...  :: Another laugh. ::  We can get to work.  I'll be fine, promise.  Eventually, at least.

By the four, she sorely missed being able to explain these things telepathically.  Ironically, it probably would have been less overwhelming for the poor Commander that way.  She wasn't really panicking.  She was only slightly panicking.

Still, that was no excuse. She felt like an idiot.  New science to be done, she was in charge of a project (or at least half of one) with a phenomenal team, and given a promotion to have the authority to see it all through....  These were all good things!  Then why was it all so mixed up in her head, just because it didn't happen when it was "supposed" to happen and with no explanation?

She was being unfair to herself and she knew it.  Maybe that's why she'd spilled her guts at the first opportunity.  She needed to hear it from someone else.

C. Dewitt: Response

Tag/TBC...

Lieutenant Junior Grade Amelia Magnolia Semara

Science Officer

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0