Ensign Ivalyan Keros - Thanks, Wyn
Ivalyan Keros
((SB118, Counselor's Office))
The antennae curled forward and relaxed, not to the point where the tips disappeared in the tufts of his white hair, just relaxed like shoulders when they were no longer stiff.
Foster: I hope we can help one another, along the way. I truly do.
Ivalyan: So. Tell me Wyn. I felt like you buried that fourth reason. And I feel like it may be the heart of things. Am I correct, or off the mark a little?
He took a deep breath. She learned a lot about Shar'Wyn Foster with that breath. Here he was, commander of this behemoth of a station, and he was about to open up to an ensign he barely knew.
Foster: I think it’s pretty close on the mark. ::he paused for a moment:: I feel like you’re never really done healing – changing – growing if you’re positive about it. What worries me most is that I’ll forget one of those lessons and make one of the same stupid mistakes I made before.
Ivalyan: Let’s talk about that.
Foster: You know the basics in my file – I started my Starfleet career as a microsurgeon. A high-level medical prodigy. If I wanted to stay that way I should have been smart and taken a nice, safe, boring posting on a medical base. But I was arrogant and full of big ideas about saving the galaxy and wanted to take a ship-based posting and go explore the universe. In four short years I had one antennae ripped clean off – and not attached particularly well – and a hole punched through my shoulder by some sort of black-market Orion Syndicate disruptor. Sure, modern medicine can put you back together in amazing ways – but afterwards I had to admit that I no longer had the extreme precision and coordination that I needed for high level microsurgery.
oO Counterfactual thinking, or just plain regret? Oo
Ivalyan: That must have been hard, Wyn. That's a huge loss. A huge derailment.
She quietly wrote on her pad, knowing what he needed right now, more than anything, seemed to be to just be heard.
Foster: All of that feels like it needed to happen to bring me where I am here, today. Right here, right now. ::He paused, antennae flexing slightly:: Now I don’t love the pain, the surgeries, the recovery – I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I don’t regret my decisions. I would have never been happy on a safe medbase posting. So in a way, this part of the file – the big part – that feels like there was closure. An old part of me died so a new part could begin.
Ivalyan: There's a relief in that, isn't there?
He nodded, drawing forward slightly, bringing one leg up to rest the foot on the opposite knee. He was relaxing, good. She thought that's what the antennae droop meant, but hadn't been sure. She wrote and underlined ANTENNA(E?) on her pad to remind her.
Foster: It’s the parts that aren’t in the files that bug me. The times when I noticed something in a crewmember as a Chief Medical Officer and someone else told me it wasn’t a big deal – so I didn’t push. And then something terrible happened.
Another one that seemed so confident on the surface. Good dad energy, she was starting to call it, and yet...
Ivalyan: Something in particular?
He chuckled, just a bit.
Foster: Specifically? I hate to admit it’s happened more times than I would like. But for example, While I was Chief Medical Officer of the USS Constitution, our Vulcan Science officer had accidentally melded with a piece of technology from a lost Hinji civilization, and she had their messages imprinted on his glial cells. Basically this information she could only access when unconscious – she started to dream about the lost civilization. Our engineering officer created a device that could scan that information from the glial cells. Well, glial cells also insulate your nerves and help clean out cellular waste. Damaging them from a medical perspective is a very bad thing. So immediately I saw the dangers. I officially recommended against the procedure.
She thought his tone shifted here, from open to just neutral. Ivalyan wasn't sure. This was pivotal. Both in the session, and with whatever he was going to say. Her eyes glowed calmly, she wanted him to feel safe and comfortable here. If there was only ever one thing she could do right, it was listen. She leaned forward and set the pad down again.
Ivalyan: What happened?
Foster: I didn’t push hard enough. Everyone else had passionate arguments as to why it would work, what amazing scientific discoveries we could gain and the safety measures engineering was putting into place. All this against my ‘gut feeling’ as the highest ranking medical officer who knew exactly how dangerous it was. But I let them convince me I was paranoid. I relented and allowed them to try the procedure – but only if I was present for the procedure and it operated under my safety standards. Just in case something went wrong. ::he couldn’t help but laugh:: Oh… and did it go wrong. It went so wrong.
She frantically searched her thoughts. What was the right approach here? Deny it? Reassure? Stop him? She didn't know. Clinically, Ivalyan should calmly listen and affirm, while slowly shifting his blame to somewhere else. But this was Commander Foster, not a textbook entry!
Ivalyan: What happened, Wyn?
Wyn: Response?
Ivalyan sat silently for a time. She was a child compared to him. What could she possibly say?
Ivalyan: Thank you, sir. :slight smile::
Foster: Response?
Ivalyan: For sharing with me. That's a private moment. And I'm sorry it happened. I truly am. I want to affirm that I heard you, I'm holding the space for the moment, but I want to give this and you the effort it deserves. I'd like to mull it over?
Foster: Response?
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