Lt JG Trovek Arys - Commodore Coffee

[Arys Trovek]

((OOC: Tag at the end for someone to join if they want, otherwise I will just continue the scene after 36 or so hours)) 

Arys hated paperwork. 

She had already hated it when she studied medicine under her father’s tutorage and eventually became a doctor with her own team and facilities - also courtesy of her father. Keeping medical files had been a bothersome task she gladly handed over to this or that intern, but Arys had only truly learned to hate it when she had joined Starfleet.

Starfleet had a form for everything. 

The Bajoran-Human hybrid had been running the USS Rahuba’s sickbay for barely twenty-four hours. Granted, the last ten of those were pretty much the definition of a worst-case-scenario, but there was a grating irony to the fact that catching up on the paperwork took longer than the whole ordeal.

There was one file Arys was sitting on longer than most others - it documented the death of Bectu Ina, the Bajoran Ensign who had shown Arys the way to sickbay when she had gotten lost. 

Ina’s death had been an avoidable tragedy, and it had taken the Doctor by surprise. The girl with the strawberry-blonde hair and the bright smile had been in Engineering when the Terra Prime Terrorists had boarded the ship. She had sustained injuries to her stomach and chest, and the bootprints on her skin didn’t leave much room for imagination as to what had happened. 

Once the intruders were repelled, Ina helped her friends and colleagues, eventually bringing Lieutenant Rafa Doark to sickbay. 

Arys had sent people to check on her. Twice. 

And yet, somehow no one had checked on the girl that was holding the Lieutenants hand. No one had noticed the internal bleeding caused by her injuries. Not until it was too late for her. 

Who was to blame? 

No one. Everyone. Arys didn’t know. 

It wasn’t the only thing that had gone wrong that day, and the Doctor closed the file with the recommendation to provide additional training to the medical staff of the USS Rahuba. That way, perhaps, they would be more prepared the next time Taybrim decided to sent them into a suicide mission. 

She was angry, stressed, overwhelmed - and since there wasn’t anyone else she could blame, she decided to blame Taybrim. 

With a deep sigh, Arys got up from her chair and emptied her cup of coffee, deciding to get more. No, what she really wanted was to go home, but given the swiftness of the transfer from the USS Juneau to Starbase  118, she hadn’t even been assigned quarters yet, and was essentially homeless. Fantastic. 

While a good cup of coffee was the only available comfort, Arys made her way to a recently rebranded café on the promenade. 

To say that the promenade was busy as usual wasn’t quite accurate, considering that Arys had just arrived at the Starbase and been here only once or twice before - but suffice to say it *was* busy. Cadets, Officers and Civilians were mingling, talking about recent news, recent exams, and recent gossip.  

A number of restaurants tempted with the scent of freshly cooked delicacies and baked goods, and the laugher from inside made Arys hope that, perhaps, she would make friends here. Friends she could go have food with. 

Eventually the Doctor reached her destination. The sign read ‘Commodore Coffee’ and its logo was Sal Taybrim’s face. Arys groaned. It *was* a nice face, but really not what she wanted to see right now. Still, the place had come highly recommended and she was in urgent need of a cup of liquid sleep. 

Wooden stools were butting up against a brass foot rail at a high counter in front of a display wall of what must be easily a hundred different kind of coffee beans. There was quiet jazz music playing in the background, and all in all it seemed less like a café than a bar, but smelled like coffee. 

At the counter and on several tables in the room sat tired looking Starfleet personnel of any perceivable rank, and all of them in zombie-mode. Arys fit right in. 

The … was it a barista or a bartender? … greeted her with an endearing smile that probably worked a lot better on male patrons. The woman was in her mid twenties, a trill-human hybrid from what Arys could see, had lavender-purple hair and wore glasses which *had* to be an accessory. 

Arys didn’t get why anyone wanted to accessorise in a way that implied their eyes weren’t functioning, but then again she also didn’t understand why people chose crazy hair colors. 

Bartender: Welcome! Can I get you something? You look like you need something. 

Trovek: ::trying not to roll her eyes:: A coffee. 

The girl seemed amused by that answer, but nodded and motioned Arys to take a seat. The stool was hard and uncomfortable and Arys was about to complain and leave, as the bartender placed a cup of coffee in front of her. 

The Doctor wrapped her cold fingers around the warm porcelain and noticed two things. The coffee had Taybrim’s latte-arted  face on it, but smelled better than he ever could. 

oO At least the branding is consistent Oo 

She thanked the woman and sipped from her mug. At least there was decent coffee on this Starbase. 

Any: ? 

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Lt. J.G. Trovek Arys 

Medical Officer 

Starbase 118 Ops

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