Doctor Thessolonia Samantha de la Croix, MD, PHD, FASFS - The Stiff Upper Lip
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Karrod Niac
Jan 12, 2026, 10:01:19 PM (2 days ago) Jan 12
to USS Ronin – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG
((Servants Quarters/Guest Office, Sickbay Complex, Deck 10, USS Ronin))
Thessolonia had a headache. Several headaches. Since re-homing herself aboard a ship that was nearly older than she was and finding her quarters, laughably considered acceptable for VIPs, among the worst she'd been stuck in since she last attended an Interspecies Medical Exchange conference on Nimbus III, Thess was annoyed. She'd allowed that irritating little man to get under her skin, as only he could, and goad her into this ridiculous farce of a position. She was expected to work out of a closet with tools that were barely a step above sharpened rocks and leeches, far from the sophisticated and state of the art facilities she was accustomed to.
Still, she insisted on facing the tedium with her usual poise and grace, unwilling to let this dreary place drag her down to its level. She would demonstrate, through her every action, her every inflection, how a true professional was expected to conduct themselves. She knew it was a far flung hope but perhaps she could bring some sophistication...and perhaps even some class...to these misguided people on their little ship.
The door to her office, which she'd been distressed to find remained unlock by default, parted to admit a dark haired young woman who she assumed was either a Dabo girl or, with full knowledge of her experiences since coming aboard, likely some senior medical aide. Someone vital to the health and safety of the people aboard this desiccated hovel.
Rox: No foam skim latte with an extra shot. Did I get it right?
She accepted the cup with an expression of extreme skepticism and none too mild suspicion. She took a delicate sip before placing the cup down on her borrowed desk and realized her first opportunity to improve the Ronin had just fallen right into her lap. A small, coy smile curled the corners of her lips.
De La Croix: Next time use Andorian goats milk dear, much better for the skin. You could use some yourself. And do stand up straight...you're not doing your chest any favors.
Rox: I will note that for the future.
Thess took another dainty sip as she considered the misguided young woman over the top of the beverage. She knew nothing about her but felt safe in assuming she was misguided if she had worked with Beckie for more than a day. She suspected that was the reason she was still standing there, looking at her like an expectant puppy.
De La Croix: You may go now.
The dabo girl retreated to a nearby station and, to Thess's extreme annoyance, her office doors didn't automatically shut and seal. Her annoyance redoubled when the girl called to her from across the room in an entirely too familiar tone.
Rox: Is this your first yellow alert Dr. De La Croix?
Thess's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as she glanced towards the off-putting amber lights pulsing in the corners of the room.
De La Croix: Oh is that what that racket was about earlier? I just thought someone decided the ship needed a pop of color. I wouldn't have gone with yellow myself. If it was anything truly important I'm certain the Captain would've called me before resorting to a light show.
Rox: I don't know they don’t tell me anything. They'll let us know when they need us.
Thess felt a strange wave of resentment at the idea that something, anything, was going on and she was uninvolved. She knew it was partly boredom with the minuscule gray box masquerading as an office but she tapped at the antiquated desk terminal and queried the computer for the ships status. What she received in reply was Starfleet gibberish.
De La Croix: 'Alert Condition 2, defensive systems on standby active, atypical spatial conditions in...'
She rolled her eyes and stabbed a manicured nail at the controls.
De La Croix: Why is it always alert this and general order that with you people? Is it too difficult to say something clear and succinct, like 'we're under attack,' or perhaps 'we're all certain to die.'
The little strumpet seemed to dismiss the idea out of hand.
Rox: If we were under attack we'd be shaking a lot more and stuff would fall from the ceiling. V'Len probably just saw a comet heading our way and got excited.
Thess glanced towards the ceiling suspiciously but pursed her lips, sensing an interesting opportunity.
De La Croix: V'Len? I didn't realize you were on a first name basis with the acting captain. Wait...is he the one with the beard or the one with the antenna? I didn't pay either of them much attention.
Rox: Response
She remembered the man now, an unusual chimeric hybrid that she imagined D14 had examined or treated at some point in the past. She would normally have had her staff look into it and provide her a fully summarized briefing with the relevant medical and biographical highlights, but they were back on the Blackheart and she was here staring at a computer terminal that looked like it had been new in the middle parts of the last century.
De La Croix: I see. How very interesting. What else can you tell me about him?
Rox: Response
Thess arced a perfect eyebrow in reply.
De La Croix: Well in that case he'll certain to listen to me, one Doctor to another, better Doctor.
Rox: Response
[Tags/TBC!]
======================================
Doctor Thessolonia Samantha de la Croix, MD, PHD, FASFS
Duchess of Saint-Malo
Chief Surgeon of a rusted out hovel
V239509GT0
Thessolonia had a headache. Several headaches. Since re-homing herself aboard a ship that was nearly older than she was and finding her quarters, laughably considered acceptable for VIPs, among the worst she'd been stuck in since she last attended an Interspecies Medical Exchange conference on Nimbus III, Thess was annoyed. She'd allowed that irritating little man to get under her skin, as only he could, and goad her into this ridiculous farce of a position. She was expected to work out of a closet with tools that were barely a step above sharpened rocks and leeches, far from the sophisticated and state of the art facilities she was accustomed to.
Still, she insisted on facing the tedium with her usual poise and grace, unwilling to let this dreary place drag her down to its level. She would demonstrate, through her every action, her every inflection, how a true professional was expected to conduct themselves. She knew it was a far flung hope but perhaps she could bring some sophistication...and perhaps even some class...to these misguided people on their little ship.
The door to her office, which she'd been distressed to find remained unlock by default, parted to admit a dark haired young woman who she assumed was either a Dabo girl or, with full knowledge of her experiences since coming aboard, likely some senior medical aide. Someone vital to the health and safety of the people aboard this desiccated hovel.
Rox: No foam skim latte with an extra shot. Did I get it right?
She accepted the cup with an expression of extreme skepticism and none too mild suspicion. She took a delicate sip before placing the cup down on her borrowed desk and realized her first opportunity to improve the Ronin had just fallen right into her lap. A small, coy smile curled the corners of her lips.
De La Croix: Next time use Andorian goats milk dear, much better for the skin. You could use some yourself. And do stand up straight...you're not doing your chest any favors.
Rox: I will note that for the future.
Thess took another dainty sip as she considered the misguided young woman over the top of the beverage. She knew nothing about her but felt safe in assuming she was misguided if she had worked with Beckie for more than a day. She suspected that was the reason she was still standing there, looking at her like an expectant puppy.
De La Croix: You may go now.
The dabo girl retreated to a nearby station and, to Thess's extreme annoyance, her office doors didn't automatically shut and seal. Her annoyance redoubled when the girl called to her from across the room in an entirely too familiar tone.
Rox: Is this your first yellow alert Dr. De La Croix?
Thess's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as she glanced towards the off-putting amber lights pulsing in the corners of the room.
De La Croix: Oh is that what that racket was about earlier? I just thought someone decided the ship needed a pop of color. I wouldn't have gone with yellow myself. If it was anything truly important I'm certain the Captain would've called me before resorting to a light show.
Rox: I don't know they don’t tell me anything. They'll let us know when they need us.
Thess felt a strange wave of resentment at the idea that something, anything, was going on and she was uninvolved. She knew it was partly boredom with the minuscule gray box masquerading as an office but she tapped at the antiquated desk terminal and queried the computer for the ships status. What she received in reply was Starfleet gibberish.
De La Croix: 'Alert Condition 2, defensive systems on standby active, atypical spatial conditions in...'
She rolled her eyes and stabbed a manicured nail at the controls.
De La Croix: Why is it always alert this and general order that with you people? Is it too difficult to say something clear and succinct, like 'we're under attack,' or perhaps 'we're all certain to die.'
The little strumpet seemed to dismiss the idea out of hand.
Rox: If we were under attack we'd be shaking a lot more and stuff would fall from the ceiling. V'Len probably just saw a comet heading our way and got excited.
Thess glanced towards the ceiling suspiciously but pursed her lips, sensing an interesting opportunity.
De La Croix: V'Len? I didn't realize you were on a first name basis with the acting captain. Wait...is he the one with the beard or the one with the antenna? I didn't pay either of them much attention.
Rox: Response
She remembered the man now, an unusual chimeric hybrid that she imagined D14 had examined or treated at some point in the past. She would normally have had her staff look into it and provide her a fully summarized briefing with the relevant medical and biographical highlights, but they were back on the Blackheart and she was here staring at a computer terminal that looked like it had been new in the middle parts of the last century.
De La Croix: I see. How very interesting. What else can you tell me about him?
Rox: Response
Thess arced a perfect eyebrow in reply.
De La Croix: Well in that case he'll certain to listen to me, one Doctor to another, better Doctor.
Rox: Response
[Tags/TBC!]
======================================
Doctor Thessolonia Samantha de la Croix, MD, PHD, FASFS
Duchess of Saint-Malo
Chief Surgeon of a rusted out hovel
V239509GT0
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