Lieutenant Drex - Give me a hammer. What do you want to do with it?
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Drex Drex
Feb 10, 2026, 7:57:37 AM (22 hours ago) Feb 10
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((Main Medical Meeting Room - Starbase 118))
The situation was taking a strange turn.
Drex was beginning to doubt that the officers with him were truly prepared for the meeting they were supposed to be having. The PADD in his hands offered no schematics nor preliminary designs. Instead, it was filled with biological data on the Ameoneians, a species - he gathered piecemeal from the conversation - that was sending a diplomatic delegation to the station.
A delegation meant accommodations, structures, environmental controls Yet there was nothing here about what he had been commissioned to design.
Now they were speaking of quarantines. Of something being wrong. Of locking down a section of the facility entirely.
That was not his concern.
Drex had no intention of finding himself trapped inside a Starfleet installation while its officers argued procedure. Deciding it was time to leave, he rose, only to discover a final, deeply unsettling detail: they had taken his clothes.
For reasons he could not recall, he was wearing a blue and dark gray uniform instead. one that did not belong to him, no matter how convincingly it sat on his shoulders.
Drex: I don’t know, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason, I’m leaving and I want my clothes back.
Foster: Where will you go?
Wethern: Let's be clear no one is going anyway in their current state and that is an order.
Drex: That is not your decision to make. I am not part of your command structure. :: He gestured briefly at the uniform, clearly displeased. :: Return my clothes. Where I go after that is my concern.
Foster: Maybe humor him, let him change clothes and see what is outside?
Wethern: Lt. Drex, I'm happy to replicate you some new clothes but you cannot leave I am afraid.
Drex’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Drex: I am not asking for new clothes. I am asking for mine.
The insistence faded as the door slid open against his shoulder. A young Bolian nearly collided with Drex and recoiled instinctively.
Polni: Oh! ::She exclaimed, taking a step back away from the Denobulan:: I’m sorry, Sir…
Wethern: ::looking at the orderly:: Please tell me you have good news and possible caffeine and sedatives.
Drex turned his head slightly toward the Bolian, studying her face, her uniform, the way she deferred without quite knowing why. Something about that sat wrong with him.
Polni: No, I just have the brain scans from Lieutenant Voxa, the ones that Doctor Wethern requested. ::She offered out a medical dataPADD:: Excuse me! I’m sorry!
Drex watched the doctor read the PADD, then his gaze returned to the Bolian. She was still standing between him and the door. Maybe the clothes did not matter. Maybe he just needed to wait until the orderly moved and take the chance to leave.
Wethern: Thank you Polni, I would escape whilst you can.
The opportunity did not come. When Drex stepped toward the door, it did not open. He was trapped.
Wethern: Now do I need to sedate you for a quiet life or will you take a stylish new suit and some tea?
The architect stopped in front of the closed door and slowly turned back to face the doctor. There was no anger in his expression, only frustration. He raised both hands slightly, palms open.
Drex: Sedation will not make this situation quieter. ::He lowered his hands, meeting Wethern’s eyes.:: I will sit. But I will not be treated as a problem to be managed.
The Denobulan reached for the nearest chair, and at that same moment Voss abruptly stood and moved to the farthest corner of the room. The suddenness of it made him pause.
He watched her with a mix of curiosity and concern as she sat down on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and hid her face in her arms. That was not the behavior of an officer.
Voss: ::whispering to herself:: Just wake up, just wake up, just wake up…
Wethern: Voss, you feeling ok?
Drex remained standing by the chair. If the human doctor was pulled away by another emergency, that might be his chance to leave.
Drex: Looks like she needs your assistance, Doctor.
Voss/Foster: ?
Wethern: Play nice you two. Doctor Foster could you assist me please.
The Human officer crouched down a bit back from the young ensign.
Wethern: Ensign, do you remember the last few minutes? Or even where you are?
Drex’s attention shifted fully to Voss as she curled tighter into herself. He hesitated only a fraction of a second before speaking.
Drex: There are excellent doctors on Denobula. Perhaps you should transport her planetside. We could all go… a ship can’t offer the same resources as a full planetary facility.
Voss/Foster: ?
Since the opportunity to leave did not present itself, Drex let his attention drift to the instruments laid out on a nearby side table. He picked one up absently, turning it in his hands as he examined the crystalline head.
Wethern: I'm Corey I'm the Medical Officer here, this is Wyn. How you feeling? Mind if I run a scan?
Foster/Voss: ?
The human doctor turned toward Drex, and when he noticed him, the Denobulan raised both eyebrows, waiting to hear what was wanted of him.
Wethern: Drex, pass me that neuro synaptic scanner?
Drex glanced down at the instrument already in his hand. It was heavy and balanced, unmistakably not medical.He did not move.
Drex: Doctor, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. This is a geode hammer.
Foster/Voss: ?
Corey turned to what had been put into his hand and sighed.
Wethern: That would be a geode hammer......where did you even get this?
Drex tilted his head slightly, clearly unimpressed by the question.
Drex: It was on the table with the survey equipment. I assumed you were asking for something durable. ::A beat.:: I am glad I did not swing it.
Foster/Voss: ?
Drex’s lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile as he set the geode hammer carefully back on the side table. He shifted his attention to the remaining instruments, scanning them with a more deliberate eye this time. He selected the correct device, and held it out to the doctor.
Drex: This should be the neuro-synaptic scanner.
He stepped back a half pace, clearing the space without prompting, and folded his hands loosely in front of him, content to let the professionals continue their work while he observed in silence.
Foster/Voss/Wethern: ?
Drex considered that for a brief second, then inclined his head.
Drex: If it is required.
He held still while the scanner passed over his temples and along his spine, posture straight, expression composed. The sensation was mildly unpleasant but familiar enough not to alarm him. When the Doctor finished, Drex took a small step back, already angling his body toward the door.
Drex: Then we are done.
It was not a question. He offered a polite and waited, fully expecting to be released now that the examination was complete.
Foster/Voss/Wethern: ?
The architect stood there for a moment, his posture shifting subtly, no longer quite as patient as before, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
Drex: I understand your need for caution, Doctor, but this is becoming a bit... excessive. ::He met Wethern’s gaze, steady and unyielding.:: You cannot keep me here against my will. I want to speak with the Commander of this vessel, and my brother on Kalus.
Foster/Voss/Wethern: ?
TAGS / TBC
The situation was taking a strange turn.
Drex was beginning to doubt that the officers with him were truly prepared for the meeting they were supposed to be having. The PADD in his hands offered no schematics nor preliminary designs. Instead, it was filled with biological data on the Ameoneians, a species - he gathered piecemeal from the conversation - that was sending a diplomatic delegation to the station.
A delegation meant accommodations, structures, environmental controls Yet there was nothing here about what he had been commissioned to design.
Now they were speaking of quarantines. Of something being wrong. Of locking down a section of the facility entirely.
That was not his concern.
Drex had no intention of finding himself trapped inside a Starfleet installation while its officers argued procedure. Deciding it was time to leave, he rose, only to discover a final, deeply unsettling detail: they had taken his clothes.
For reasons he could not recall, he was wearing a blue and dark gray uniform instead. one that did not belong to him, no matter how convincingly it sat on his shoulders.
Drex: I don’t know, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason, I’m leaving and I want my clothes back.
Foster: Where will you go?
Wethern: Let's be clear no one is going anyway in their current state and that is an order.
Drex: That is not your decision to make. I am not part of your command structure. :: He gestured briefly at the uniform, clearly displeased. :: Return my clothes. Where I go after that is my concern.
Foster: Maybe humor him, let him change clothes and see what is outside?
Wethern: Lt. Drex, I'm happy to replicate you some new clothes but you cannot leave I am afraid.
Drex’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Drex: I am not asking for new clothes. I am asking for mine.
The insistence faded as the door slid open against his shoulder. A young Bolian nearly collided with Drex and recoiled instinctively.
Polni: Oh! ::She exclaimed, taking a step back away from the Denobulan:: I’m sorry, Sir…
Wethern: ::looking at the orderly:: Please tell me you have good news and possible caffeine and sedatives.
Drex turned his head slightly toward the Bolian, studying her face, her uniform, the way she deferred without quite knowing why. Something about that sat wrong with him.
Polni: No, I just have the brain scans from Lieutenant Voxa, the ones that Doctor Wethern requested. ::She offered out a medical dataPADD:: Excuse me! I’m sorry!
Drex watched the doctor read the PADD, then his gaze returned to the Bolian. She was still standing between him and the door. Maybe the clothes did not matter. Maybe he just needed to wait until the orderly moved and take the chance to leave.
Wethern: Thank you Polni, I would escape whilst you can.
The opportunity did not come. When Drex stepped toward the door, it did not open. He was trapped.
Wethern: Now do I need to sedate you for a quiet life or will you take a stylish new suit and some tea?
The architect stopped in front of the closed door and slowly turned back to face the doctor. There was no anger in his expression, only frustration. He raised both hands slightly, palms open.
Drex: Sedation will not make this situation quieter. ::He lowered his hands, meeting Wethern’s eyes.:: I will sit. But I will not be treated as a problem to be managed.
The Denobulan reached for the nearest chair, and at that same moment Voss abruptly stood and moved to the farthest corner of the room. The suddenness of it made him pause.
He watched her with a mix of curiosity and concern as she sat down on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and hid her face in her arms. That was not the behavior of an officer.
Voss: ::whispering to herself:: Just wake up, just wake up, just wake up…
Wethern: Voss, you feeling ok?
Drex remained standing by the chair. If the human doctor was pulled away by another emergency, that might be his chance to leave.
Drex: Looks like she needs your assistance, Doctor.
Voss/Foster: ?
Wethern: Play nice you two. Doctor Foster could you assist me please.
The Human officer crouched down a bit back from the young ensign.
Wethern: Ensign, do you remember the last few minutes? Or even where you are?
Drex’s attention shifted fully to Voss as she curled tighter into herself. He hesitated only a fraction of a second before speaking.
Drex: There are excellent doctors on Denobula. Perhaps you should transport her planetside. We could all go… a ship can’t offer the same resources as a full planetary facility.
Voss/Foster: ?
Since the opportunity to leave did not present itself, Drex let his attention drift to the instruments laid out on a nearby side table. He picked one up absently, turning it in his hands as he examined the crystalline head.
Wethern: I'm Corey I'm the Medical Officer here, this is Wyn. How you feeling? Mind if I run a scan?
Foster/Voss: ?
The human doctor turned toward Drex, and when he noticed him, the Denobulan raised both eyebrows, waiting to hear what was wanted of him.
Wethern: Drex, pass me that neuro synaptic scanner?
Drex glanced down at the instrument already in his hand. It was heavy and balanced, unmistakably not medical.He did not move.
Drex: Doctor, I believe there has been a misunderstanding. This is a geode hammer.
Foster/Voss: ?
Corey turned to what had been put into his hand and sighed.
Wethern: That would be a geode hammer......where did you even get this?
Drex tilted his head slightly, clearly unimpressed by the question.
Drex: It was on the table with the survey equipment. I assumed you were asking for something durable. ::A beat.:: I am glad I did not swing it.
Foster/Voss: ?
Drex’s lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile as he set the geode hammer carefully back on the side table. He shifted his attention to the remaining instruments, scanning them with a more deliberate eye this time. He selected the correct device, and held it out to the doctor.
Drex: This should be the neuro-synaptic scanner.
He stepped back a half pace, clearing the space without prompting, and folded his hands loosely in front of him, content to let the professionals continue their work while he observed in silence.
Foster/Voss/Wethern: ?
Drex considered that for a brief second, then inclined his head.
Drex: If it is required.
He held still while the scanner passed over his temples and along his spine, posture straight, expression composed. The sensation was mildly unpleasant but familiar enough not to alarm him. When the Doctor finished, Drex took a small step back, already angling his body toward the door.
Drex: Then we are done.
It was not a question. He offered a polite and waited, fully expecting to be released now that the examination was complete.
Foster/Voss/Wethern: ?
The architect stood there for a moment, his posture shifting subtly, no longer quite as patient as before, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
Drex: I understand your need for caution, Doctor, but this is becoming a bit... excessive. ::He met Wethern’s gaze, steady and unyielding.:: You cannot keep me here against my will. I want to speak with the Commander of this vessel, and my brother on Kalus.
Foster/Voss/Wethern: ?
TAGS / TBC
============
Lt. Commander Drex
First Officer
USS Eagle-A
D240011D14
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