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Post by Nola on Jul 30, 2018 6:02:12 GMT
Lieutenant Inala EmericVital StatisticsName: Inala Jane Emeric Species: Human/Orion Age: 25 years (b. April 6th, 2372) Place of Birth: Chicago, North America, Earth, Sol Height: 1.68 m Weight: 61.7 kg Eye Color: Amber-Gold Hair Color: Black Starfleet Commissioned OfficerRank: Lieutenant Posting: Engineering Officer, USS Zorya
Commendations:
- Admiral's Letter of Commendation for excellent problem-solving while your Department Head was trapped in a Barissi shuttle's forcefield. -- SD 11902.25
- Captain's Letter of Commendation for creative problem solving in removing a hazardous contaminant from the USS Zorya.
-- SD 11902.25
- Captain's Letter of Commendation for creative problem solving in restoring power to the USS Zorya during the encounter with the Red Ship. -- SD 11902.25
Previous Postings: USS Hyperion (Operations) Decorations: None. Educational HistoryAlbert Raby Academy (Chicago), Graduated June 2390 Starfleet Academy (San Francisco), Graduated June 2394 Emeric rated Above Average or higher in all Operations Division courses, while Command and Science & Medical scores were mixed. Her poorest scores were in Biological Science and Leadership. She rated as Outstanding in Logistics Management and Starship Operations, and Excellent in Engineering. Instructors noted Emeric as being a bright student who learned quickly and was able to manage multiple tasks with ease. However, she grew increasingly withdrawn from her fellow students as she progressed, and concerns were raised about her social well-being. Professor O'a (Advanced Starship Operations) noted declining morale in her third year and suggested she see a counselor. Counselor Tavis (Starfleet Academy Student Services) noted the cause of Emeric's isolaion as being related to her being part Orion, particularly as it related to her interactions with other cadets (see Personal Information). Professor O'a also noted Emeric's natural affinity for Operations due to a firm grasp of the interplay of ships' systems. O'a noted Emeric could fill several different roles aboard a starship equally well. Professor Narbanor (Electro-Plasma Systems) noted an intuitive understanding of EPS theory and fuction, and suggested she would 'be a good multitool' for an Engineering department. Professor Flemish (Bio Science) noted Emeric's early displeasure with the course. After private conversation, Flemish noted that Emeric's childhood consisted of frequent medical examinations, and that Emeric developed an aversion to the topic of medical science as a result. Professor Eichman (Leadership) noted social anxiety and a lack of personal confidence as preventing Emeric from being an effective leader, though he did have praise for her ability to handle 'multiple moving parts,' suggesting she may have a mind for strategy. He further notes that Emeric is 'far more comfortable with numbers than people.' Career SummaryEmeric began her career as an Operations officer aboard the USS Hyperion. Captain Jonathan Rome noted positive impressions of the young officer, but a personnel shortage saw Emeric reassigned to the USS Ejerin after a few months. Captain Farraday noted Emeric was exemplary in her duties, but had difficulty with her interactions with other crewmembers. Emeric lodged more than a dozen harassment complaints with her superiors during her time aboard the Ejerin, and was eventually transferred to the Estoc. After several more complaints, Captain Adano noted an informal conversation with Emeric in a log. No further complaints were logged following the conversation. Emeric's superiors note she became increasingly withdrawn, which eventually began affecting her performance. Emeric was nevertheless promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade aboard the Estoc. A subsequent log by Adano expressed hope that the promotion would improve her performance, and Emeric's evaluations bore that out to some extent. Emeric was later transferred to the USS Coriolis, which saw some improvement in her crew interactions. Emeric was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant after two months. The Coriolis was subsequently destroyed by True Federation forces, and Lieutenant Emeric was eventually transferred to the USS Zorya. Personal InformationInala is the daughter of Nolan Emeric (Human male), director of outreach for Frontier Interstellar Relations, and Zarade Vess (Orion female), political activist on Orion. After meeting and developing a relationship, the two moved to Chicago, Earth, and were married in 2370. Two years later, they were surprised by the conception of a Human-Orion daughter. Due to the rarity of Emeric's phylogeny, her early childhood is well documented by Starfleet Medical. By all observations, the Emric household was warm and affectionate, and Noah and Zarade were noted to be 'ideal' parents. SM reported a strong sense of curiosity in the child, including inspecting the various instruments used to scan and test her biology from an early age. Inala has had a number of hobbies over the years, including drawing, singing, swimming, ceramics, building computer systems, collecting coins, historical media, and go (the game). An analysis of duty logs suggests she maintains at least a few of these hobbies in adulthood. She was noted to be a gregarious child, but this changed after pubescence. Both her doctors and parents noted discomfort regarding comments about her physical appearance, which continued with growing frequency through her time at the Academy. Dr. Vola, her primary care physician, noted an "unfortunate stigma" regard Orion women on Earth and in the wider Federation. This resulted in poor self-image for Inala, who became withdrawn outside of her classes and home life. Various therapists note that she takes steps to try and make herself less attractive, with one, Dr. Tanner, noting a briefly-lived 'mean streak' resulting from her social frustrations. Inala has undergone intensive therapy for these self-image issues concurrently with her Starfleet career, and both superior officers and ships' counselors have noted significant progress and improved crew interaction. They report confidence that she will continue to improve in these areas. Starfleet Medical ProfileDue to genetic incongruencies, Human-Orion offspring are rare. Only certain genetic mutations in humans allow for Human-Orion offspring, and even in those cases fetal viatability stands at roughly 53%. Thus, in some circles, Emeric is considered a 'miracle baby,' and her genetic information has been added to Starfleet Medical's Interspecies Phylogenesis database for study. Given the rarity of her conception, Emeric received regular physical examinations every six months for the first five years of her life, and annually since. Thus far, she has not suffered any negative physical effects due to her parentage. Her Orion genes seem to be the more dominant, with the most notable exception being the absence of female Orion pheromone glands. Due to the presence of social factors, it is unclear what role her genetics play in her mental health.
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Post by Nola on Aug 13, 2018 9:30:01 GMT
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Post by Nola on Aug 13, 2018 9:31:52 GMT
Home, Part 1
Inala wasn't immediately sure what had woken her up. It was either the smell of bacon or the dwindling fragments of nightmare, and she made the conscious choice to credit the former as she slowly rolled out of her old bed. The morning sun peered through her offwhite curtains, and she briefly made to throw them open before remembering her relative state of undress.
Brief memories flooded back of previous failures to do so, of Eddie Stanwick's slawjawed gaze one morning during her senior year at the Academy. She'd been back home only a week, and had completely fallen into old habits. The longjohns remained packed as she'd resumed sleeping in little but an oversized t-shirt. Being surrounded by her collection of old posters and displays had prompted her to listen to music she hadn't touched in years.
On some level, she was annoyed. It'd taken a long time to develop her shipboard habits, the ones that made her feel safe and secure and able to do her job, and to see them so easily cast aside was alarming. On another, this? This was liberating. She had dreaded the idea of being home again, but it was freeing to be in a place where she had only good memories, where she didn't have to put up a front, where she didn't have to worry about every little aspect of her appearance or behavior.
Here she could crank up the volume and play games, or do puzzles, or laugh and joke with her parents, or maybe even check on old neighborhood friends - which she hadn't done yet, but told herself she was working up to. Here, she wasn't the hot Orion chick down in Engineering. She was the funloving kid from Englewood, just all grown up, with a nice adult-sized mess of anxieties and doubts hanging on the periphery of everything.
You know, normal shit.
After tossing on a loose pair of shorts, she made her way to her curtains and pulled them open, revealing the gleaming city core that had captivated her imagination for as long as she could remember. Chicago had such a rich, chaotic and tumultuous history, and it was reflected in her diverse populace from worlds throughout the Federation and beyond, and yadda yadda, and all that stuff her dad said that her mom would undercut by taking her growing little girl out to various live music venues and completely ignoring the whole history thing.
Her first night out on her own with her friends had been in old Milennium Park to hear a band called Jimmy and the Hoffas. Her first real kiss had been on the corner of Marquette and Lowe, almost within sight of her house, which had terrified the shit out of her - all her memories that seemed locked away in a completely separate partition in her mind. Something had happened to the carefree girl she used to be, and while the easy answer was that it was the Academy's fault, she could never be sure how true that was.
"Nala! Breakfast!" her dad called.
"Coming!" she called back. She paused by the mirror on her old desk and checked her hair, smoothing out a cowlick to the best of her ability. There was a whole thing about how she'd changed her hair, but it would have to wait - there was bacon to be had!
She trotted down the narrow staircase and rounded into the small kitchen. Her mom was sitting at the table, reading a PADD, though she looked as her pride and joy appeared, breaking into the same warm, loving smile she'd always had for Inala, one she could never help but return.
"Morning, sunshine," said Zarade. This brought her dad from his concentration on breakfast, looking first to Zarade and then to Inala, flashing his grin.
"Hey, princess!"
"Oh god, dad," cringed Inala. "No."
"What?"
"'Princess?'"
"You love that name."
"She's never liked that name," Zarade corrected.
"Okay, okay, but I like it."
"You're, like, the second-worst dad I've ever had," Inala joked as she sat at the table.
"Only the second? Take that other - wait, you had another dad!?"
"For like two days, yeah."
"When!?"
"We had tryouts and everything," said Zarade.
"Greg got the callback, but he just wasn't up to snuff."
"When were you going to tell me about this!?"
"I mean, we had the letter drafted to let you know your services wouldn't be needed any more, but then we had him try to make bacon, and it just... he was not talented when it came to salt-meats."
"Well, at least one of my talents is appreciated around here," grumbled Nolan.
"Two," Zarade corrected once more.
"Oh? What's the other?"
"You got that tight butt. Duh."
"Jesus, mom! You ruined it! You killed the fun!"
Zarade weaved her hands in the air and waggled her fingers while wearing a cheesy grin.
"Parent powers," she whispered.
Inala snorted and laughed, rubbing her hands over her face as her parents joined in.
"I gotta tell you guys," Nolan sighed. "I missed this."
"It's always more fun when I have someone to gang up on your father with," Zarade agreed.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice told her not to say what she was about to say, but of course, she ignored it.
"Well, I mean, maybe, uh, it can be like a semi-permanent thing?"
Zarade and Nolan both stopped what they were doing to stare at their daughter. For all the struggles Inala'd had over the past couple years, she'd never once talked about leaving Starfleet.
"Well, uh," stammered Nolan. "I mean, we would both love to have you here with us, hun, if that's something you really want."
"Is this something you've been thinking about, or something that just popped into your head now?" said Zarade, demonstrating her ability to read her daughter like a book. Inala sighed and rubbed her eyes, feeling the beginnings of unwelcome tears.
"I'm just tired of it," she whispered. "Not once this week have I wondered if anyone's looking at me like that, or considered changing my uniform measurements, or had to stop myself from having binders replicated. I just- I feel safe here."
Nolan set the pan off the burner as Zarade got up and rounded the table. They both put their arms around their daughter as she silently cried.
"My sweet little girl," Zarade whispered. "I wish you didn't have to deal with this. I'm so sorry."
"s'Not your fault, mama," mumbled Inala.
"Sometimes it feels like it," she replied.
"Hey," said Nolan, leaning back to draw the gazes of his wife and daughter. "Neither of you have done anything wrong, okay? All you've done is lived your lives, and filled mine with light, and there's not one thing about either of you I would change. You can't help people being assholes, and it breaks my heart to see what they've done to my baby girl, but that has nothing to do with who you are. Understand?"
Inala's eyes closed as tears streamed down her cheeks and she just nodded. Zarade kissed her husband through tears of her own and three resumed their hugging, breakfast forgotten for the time being.
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Post by aoibheni on Aug 17, 2018 14:44:15 GMT
So, that explains why she's so dour in Engineering. ooooh, I just know this arc is gonna be an interesting one to watch unfolding.
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Post by Nola on Sept 12, 2018 1:55:10 GMT
Home, Part 2
Inala laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mind was well-fried by this point, the draft of her resignation sitting on her desk, her thoughts awash in a sea of self-loathing and the Cheap Trick playing from her media center. Chicago and all that.
She'd spent the better part of the day fantasizing about life at home, about hanging out with old friends and either being the cool older girl that hangs around the neighborhood or the weird recluse who couldn't cut it in Starfleet but secret has this awesome personality that she never lets anyone see except for some few lucky kids willing to take a chance, and other juvenile, Hallmark-style fantasies. Anything to take her mind off things. Anything to pretend she didn't feel empty in side.
A knock on her door automatically lowered the volume, and a heavy sigh was her only answer before the knob turned.
"Hey," called her mother. Inala rolled over and grabbed the remote, turning the music off completely before sitting up on her bed. The curtains billowed lightly in the autumn breeze, and for a moment it was the only sound in the room.
"Is this, uh, an okay time to talk?" asked Zarade.
"Good a time as any," Inala replied with a rueful grin. Zarade smirked and slipped inside, closing the door before moving to sit at her daughter's desk. She picked up the PADD with the resignation request, skimming it briefly before setting it back down.
"Been thinking about this all day," she muttered. "I'm sure you have, as well. I don't, um, I don't know if this is something you actually want, hun."
Inala stared at her for a moment before folding her arms and casting her gaze to the floor.
"I remember when you got in," Zarade continued. "You were so excited about the chance to meet new people, to learn new things about the galaxy, to, to get to serve on a starship."
"That's how naivete works, right?" Inala snarked.
"It's how enthusiasm works," Zarade corrected with a wink. "Passion. Desire. Those things that make our lives worth living."
"I don't have that any more."
"Yes, you do."
"Mom, I don't know what you want me to say," huffed Inala. "Do you want me to say that it's not as bad as I make it out to be?"
"No."
"That I'm just being dramatic?"
"No."
"Do you-do you want me to start liking the cat calls, or-"
"No! Nala, please, no, that's not-"
"So, what? You just want me to throw myself back into it because you think I should want it enough to ignore-"
"Inala Jane! If you'd just give me a minute, I'm trying to figure out what I want to say, okay?"
Inala hid her face in her hands, trying her best to steady her breathing. She regretted getting angry, of course. That's how anger worked for her - it snuck in when she least wanted it, driving her to lash out at the people who deserved it least.
"All I want, all I've wanted since the moment I first got sick in your dad's Exige and we learned you were on the way is for you to be happy. And if you truly feel that giving up Starfleet and-and moving back here with us is the thing that will make you happy, then that is what I want. I just... I don't think that's what you really want."
Breathe. Count to three. Breathe again.
"What do you think I want?" Inala asked.
"I don't, um- I don't know exactly how to put it," admitted her mom. Inala wiped at an eye before laying back on her bed, staring at the beige-yellow ceiling and listening to the distant sounds of traffic from the window. The two sat for a long moment, neither really sure what could be said that hadn't already been said.
"Do you, um, do you remember prom?" asked Zarada.
"Sure," replied Inala, dredging the not-so-distant memories of her days at Raby.
"We got your that shimmery silver dress, and your father and I were hosting that party for the other parents, and you came downstairs in that slinky, glittering thing, with your black stockings and little canvas tennies, and every conversation in the room just stopped. Do you remember that?"
The weight in her chest told her she did, though she couldn't bring herself to admit it just then.
"And it wasn't just that you looked amazing in it, it was, um, it was the strut."
"Oh god," Inala groaned, hiding her eyes despite her self-deprecating grin.
"You walked through the room with a little smirk on your face, and you just nodded at your father and me, and you didn't say a word as you joined your friends and walked out the door."
"I was such a little shit," chuckled Inala.
"You were, but you owned it," Zarade affectionately chided. She rose off the chair and moved over to her daughter's bed, laying next to her with a warm smile.
"And it's not that you were beautiful, or sexy, or any of that stuff. It was the confidence, yeah? It was that you were comfortable in your own skin, and that's what everyone responded to."
"How do you know that, mom?" asked Inala, still staring at the ceiling. "How do you know they weren't just staring at my thighs, or my chest?"
"You're father would have beat the shit out of them, for one," she replied, drawing a doubtful chuckle from Inala. "He would! Your father doesn't get angry often, but when he does? He would get so angry when we got your messages about the Academy. He kept going into these little tirades about how he would fly to San Francisco and kick kids' asses for you."
"Jesus, dad."
"Oh, he would go into great detail about it, too, and I had to fight so hard not to just burst out laughing. He's probably half the size of some of those Academy toughs."
"There were a lot of Klingons in that class."
"God, he would have just died. But that's how angry he got that someone would hurt his little girl. Because he saw the same thing I did, love - he saw the confidence, the strut. We never had any doubt that you would be okay."
"And look how that turned out," Inala lamented after a long moment. Zarade combed her fingers through her daughter's hair before drawn her gaze, wearing as warm a smile as she could muster.
"I still have no doubt that you'll find your way through this, love," she offered. "It might take you a while, and maybe it means resigning, and that would be okay. I just- All I want, Nala, is for them not to take that strut away from you forever. I don't ever want to see any assholes take away something my daughter wants, and I can't help believing that my little girl still wants to be out there in the stars, crawling through those tubes and getting grease stains everywhere."
"I do," Inala admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I can't figure out- I feel stares constantly, momma, even when no one's actually looking at me, and I don't know how to fix that."
"I don't know either, baby," lamented Zarade. "But I know that if you keep trying, you'll get there. I've known that since the moment I saw those perfect little golden eyes, that you'd be unstoppable. Just don't let them take it away from you, okay?"
Inala wiped her eyes with trembling hands as she snuggled against her mom, only realizing now how desperately she'd needed it.
"I'll try, momma."
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Post by Einar on Sept 12, 2018 6:52:51 GMT
oh I love that
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Post by aoibheni on Sept 12, 2018 13:09:03 GMT
Very cool, CJ. I love the dynamic.
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Post by Nola on Oct 15, 2018 20:07:38 GMT
First Impression
The list of modifications for the radiation shielding was extensive, to say the least. The standard modification requirements had been thorough enough, but accounting for the Zorya’s complicated repair history added another layer to the task. Bypasses. Temporary junctions. Repulsor coil realignment.
Completing the mods on time would take the entire department and a fair bit of overtime.
Somewhat foolishly, Inala had hoped she’d have an individual assignment. Nothing helped her ease into a new ship like spending hours lost in its tubes, nothing but her own thoughts and a toolkit to keep her company. Commander Gutey’s ‘GLASS’ system had made that an unlikely prospect.
Her assigned partner was an Ensign Tocato, a human woman with dusky skin and an abundance of chocolate curls. Her file photo had it tied back neatly, but Inala hadn’t once seen her wear it like that on duty. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her wear it the same way twice in the short time she’d been aboard, but despite the frequent permutation, there hadn’t been a ponytail.
Inala hadn’t had the chance to speak to her yet. She’d overheard the Ensign a few times - she seemed funny - but this would be the first meeting, which naturally filled Inala with the usual nerves.
Just breathe. Be yourself.
“Ensign Tocato?” she called, having located her near the toolkits.
“That’s me,” she replied, perking up a bit as she flashed an impish smile. “You must be Lieutenant Emeric.”
“That’s right.”
“Nice to meet you finally, ma’am,” offered Tocato, hand extended. Inala wore a brief smile as she shook the hand.
“Likewise,” she said, perhaps falsely. “Are you up on the assignment?”
Tocato deftly slipped a PADD from her kit, followed quickly by a second.
“Yep! Got the procedural walkthrough on this one, and the junction layout on this one. Should be easy enough.”
Inala gave a nod, pleased that Tocato was so prepared. The funny ones tended to be less prepared than the unfun ones, like herself. She grabbed a toolkit for herself and wordlessly led Tocato out into the corridor, towards the nearest turbolift.
“You joined us at 41, right?” the Ensign asked.
“That’s right,” said Inala as they boarded the lift. “Deck 8.”
“Been on for a few months myself,” Tocato continued. Inala clicked her teeth as she briefly debated actually participating in this conversation.
Make a good impression.
“I heard the Zorya’s had a rough go,” offered Inala.
“Oh, you know,” dithered Tocato. “It’s been, uh, yeah it’s been pretty shit.”
Inala gave a sympathetic look, her last images of the Coriolis flashing in her thoughts.
“But it’s good to have some fresh faces around, if nothing else,” said Tocato, nodding as she tried to convince herself. She looked to Inala and gave a knowing smile. Inala struggled for an immediate answer as the lift came to a stop, and the pair stepped out. She settled on the obvious.
“So, where are you from, Ensign?”
“It's Jeannine, or Jeannie, or Jean,” she corrected in a pleasant tone. “I'm from a place called Detroit, on Earth. How about you? Orion?”
“Chicago, actually,” Inala corrected in turn.
“Seriously? Get out!” Tocato’s face lit up in infectious fashion.
“It's true. Grew up in Englewood.”
“Seems like there's so few Orions on Earth. Did your folks immigrate there?”
“I'm actually only half-Orion,” said Inala, unsure why she's volunteering this information. “My dad's human.”
“Really? I didn't know humans could crossbreed with Orions.”
“It's rare. It requires a specific mutation in human males.” Something in Tocato’s manner had disarmed her a bit. This wasn’t usually the kind of thing she talked about with anyone, let alone someone she’d just met.
“Oh, good, another snowflake from Chicago,” joked Jeannine, drawing a smirk from Inala.
“Don't get mad just because you're from a cheap knockoff,” retorted Inala, unable to help a chuckle. She was going to like Tocato.
“You're lucky you're a superior officer,” Tocato playfully grumbled..
“That's kinda the point,” bragged Inala, strutting the final few paces ahead of a chuckling Tocato before stopping.
“This it?” she asked, her mind turning back to the task at hand. Tocato knelt down by the panel, reading the id and double checking the assignment PADD.
“That’s the one.”
They two set about deftly prying off the panel, revealing an access panel that looked distinctly like a bad finger-painting of a junk heap. Various bypass cables crisscrossed the section, several of which had melted. Some kind of discharge coated the small isolinear bank, and the whole assembly had the faint odor of ozone.
“Oh my god,” gasped Tocato.
“Wow,” marveled Inala.
“Oh god, how did- oh, god!”
“That's a mess. Is that ODN cable hardwired into the EPS circuit?
“It's like a syphilitic Borg jizzed all over the compartment!”
Inala snorted and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a fit of shocked chuckles.
“Oh, baby, who hurt you?” Tocato continued, dropping to her knees and caressing the bulkhead. “Don't worry, they won't get away with this.”
Tocato tapped her combadge.
“What are you-” started Inala.
“Tocato to Security! There's a diseased Borg on the loose violating the access panels!”
“Holy shit, Jeannine!” exclaimed Inala, her eyes going wide despite her grin.
“Who is this?” asked a bewildered security officer.
“You have to do something!” Jeannine shouted, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice.
“Sorry to bother you,” Inala called into Jeannine’s combadge, her mind racing with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “This panel’s just a mess."
“They won't get away with this!” Tocato cried, before tapping her combadge. The pair devolved into fits of giggles and snorts, Inala wiping away a tear as the moment passed.
“Well, this is useless,” huffed Tocato, tossing the PADD with the panel diagram aside.
“We're gonna have to scan every cable and chip to figure out what all this junk does,” lamented Inala, tricorder already in hand.
“Every day a new adventure.”
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Post by Nola on Oct 15, 2018 20:07:45 GMT
Hangover
Inala had been up for a while, a dull headache making return to sleep difficult. She was trying not to think about the night before, about the scene she'd made in the lounge and the minor meltdown she'd had in her quarters afterward, which of course meant it was all she could think about.
Things had been going so well here. She'd made a friend, and had even been assertive a time or two without it immediately blowing up in her face, but all it had taken was one brief instant to take all of that away. Now she was scared. Now she ashamed. Now she was just a piece of meat again, which wasn't really fair to anyone.
It wasn't fair to herself for obvious reasons. She didn't deserve to feel like she had to bury herself behind a fortress. She deserved to not have to worry about every little interaction, every little word someone said.
It wasn't fair to Jeannine, who she felt like she'd duped into thinking she was cool, and not a paranoid mess.
It wasn't even fair to the flight jock. He'd never once made her feel like he was leering, like he was making a pass. For all she really knew, he'd just been enjoying her company, and didn't want the night to end so abruptly.
And it had been abrupt. The walls rose the instant she'd realized she was inebriated, her mind instantly going into a panic about being vulnerable, about not having control of the situation. Then he'd grabbed her sleeve, and that seemed to justify every ounce of her paranoia in that moment, every bit of panic.
It was hard not to wonder if this had been the last straw.
"Computer, time," she called, the vibrations from her speech not doing her head any favors.
"The time is 0627 hours."
She rolled out of bed with a groan, rubbing her palm against her forehead, as if that might magically make the headache go away. When that didn't work, she decided to try the other solution: caffeine. Her trip into the living room reminded her of the small mess she'd made, however. A couple of chairs had been kicked over, a picture frame broken, and one Raby Academy mug reduced to shards after being thrown against a wall.
The shame weighed heavily on her shoulders as she picked the place up, returning the furnishings to their normal positions and carefully rounding up all the pieces of the mug and setting them aside for potential repair. She could probably just replicate a new one, but it wouldn't be the same, and all that.
Finally, she made her way to the replicator.
"Coff-"
Her order was interrupted by the door chime. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, having some idea who it was, and not really in the mood for him at the moment.
"Coffee, black, a bit of sugar," she ordered, taking the cup as it materialized. The chime rang again, and Inala moved to sit in one of the chairs, coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn't just go away.
"Who is it?" she finally called.
"It's me, Jeannine," called Tocato, filling her with immense, if temporary, relief.
"Come in."
Jeannine stepped in as the doors open. She was already dressed, looking remarkable alert considering the night they'd had.
"Morning," she offered. Inala only hummed noncommittally in response, drawing a smirk from Jeannine. She sat down across from Inala, hands folded neatly in her lap.
"I, uh, just wanted to check on you," she explained, her gaze growing doubtful as she said it. "I mean, uh-"
"I get it," Inala assured, giving a brief, tired smile.
"It's fine, you know," Jeannine continued. "Totally fine. Like, um-"
"I have a question," interrupted Inala.
"Shoot."
"Why do you seem so fucking sober?"
Jeannine snorted, her shoulders visibly relaxing.
"I'm not, I'm just really good at hiding it," she offered. "Plenty of practice on this ship."
Inala gave a weak little smile and took a sip of coffee.
"He's sorry," Jeannine said after a moment. "I don't think he meant anything by it."
"Yeah," huffed Inala. Jeannine's brow furrowed, her lips contorting oddly as she tried to figure out what to say.
"If you want to talk about it," she said slowly, "about whatever happened, or..."
Inala pinched the bridge of her nose, a buzz filling her mind as she argued with herself whether she should say anything, whether it would seem stupid.
"Course, if you don't want to, that's fine, too," Jeannine added, shrinking a bit sheepishly.
"Nothing happened," mumbled Inala. Jeannine nodded, smoothing out her pant legs.
"Sure, all good, no need to-"
"Nothing like that, I mean," Inala pressed on. "It's just, um, people, like, look at me."
"Look at you?"
"Y'know, that way," Inala clarified. She immediately regretted saying anything, but she'd already started, so she might as well follow through.
"Like, a lot?"
"Yeah. Ever since I got, uh, curves."
Jeannine nodded some, taking up the role of listener.
"I'm, I'm the ideal, right? Not, like, in a superior way or anything, but I'm, like, the green alien chick. Like, I didn't mind all that much at first, back home. I knew all those people. They knew me. And then I went to the Academy, and I didn't know anybody, but so many of them would look at me, at parts of me, and I guess I wasn't ready for it or something, and it fucked me up a bit."
"But nobody tried anything?"
"Um," faltered Inala, her eyes closed tightly as she thought back to a number of not-insignificant incidents. "Nothing happened, but not for lack of trying."
"I see."
"And it would get resolved every time," Inala explained. "I would go to the right people about it, and they dealt with it properly, and that would be the end of it for that person, but it always seemed to happen again. And it didn't really get better once I was assigned to a ship, s-so, uh, I started to, like, alter my appearance, and, um, like I would bind my chest, or, uh..."
Words failed her as she remembered those times, of how much she'd hated herself and everyone around her. Those times weren't all that far removed, and hating herself like that again had become her biggest fear.
Jeannine fidgeted lightly in the chair, clearly struggling with what to say or do, before finally speaking.
"Can I, um, come over there, and maybe hug you or something?" she asked. A few tears dripped from Inala's eyes as she faintly nodded. Jeannine crossed the distance carefully and wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulder, holding her close.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," Jeannine murmured. "People can be real assholes sometimes."
"The worst part is when they would say I was imagining it," Inala continued. "Had a couple of superiors say that to me, and I don't know that they were wrong, you know?"
"Even if you were, they still should have taken it seriously."
"They eventually did. Captain Adano, on the Estoc, eventually sat me down and talked to me about it, and he said that I can't control what others think of me and that trying would drive me insane."
"That's accurate, at least."
"Yeah, and it helped for a little bit, but ultimately I just kinda hid from everybody. Wouldn't leave my quarters outside of shift. Wouldn't do any small talk. I was miserable. Then I got shipped to the Coriolis, and I tried to do better, right? Tried to talk to people, tried to find some way to just accept that some people would be assholes and that I needed to try and have some kind of social life."
"Well, hey, look," said Jeannine, giving Inala's shoulder a squeeze. "You've done great since you came here."
Inala scoffed, giving Jeannine an incredulous look.
"Seriously!" she insisted. "You've made at least one friend, and you went out drinking and mostly had a good time."
"Until I freaked out in front of everybody."
"So you found a limit. That's perfectly acceptable. You established a boundary, and you don't have to worry about flyboy crossing it again."
"He didn't deserve that, did he?" fretted Inala. Jeannine sighed and let go of Inala for a moment, moving to crouch in front of her she she could look her in the eyes.
"It wasn't perfect," Jeannine offered. "Maybe it was an overreaction, but it was an understandable one, okay? If you feel so terribly about it, maybe explain it a little to him, but I think he understands that you reacted that way for a reason, and he definitely regrets making you feel that way."
"You talked to him a bit," Inala reasoned.
"Something like that, yeah," Jeannine confirmed with a smirk. Inala wasn't entirely sure how to take that.
"He's alright," Jeannine continued. "Still a flight jock, but not an asshole. So, don't worry about that so much, okay? Everything's fine."
Inala didn't respond immediately, instead taking a drink of her coffee and trying to process the conversation properly through her hangover. She would have to talk to him at some point, she knew. He may have understood that she had a reason to react that way, but some part of her wanted to make sure he knew the exact reason, that he wouldn't be speculating about it.
"My head's not fine," Inala eventually admitted.
"This, too, shall pass," Jeannine offered sagely.
"Not soon enough."
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Post by Nola on Oct 15, 2018 20:10:49 GMT
SD 11810.15
Interdepartmental Message FROM: Engineering TO: All Departments
DO NOT TOUCH THE VARISSI SHUTTLE. For the safety of all personnel, please maintain a minimum three-meter distance from the Varissi shuttle at all times.
Thank You.
-Lieutenant Emeric
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Post by aoibheni on Oct 15, 2018 20:16:38 GMT
hahaha, see? The Varissi defense system works a charm.
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Post by Nola on Oct 16, 2018 2:31:36 GMT
Posted the missing logs.
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Post by Nola on Dec 3, 2018 7:04:59 GMT
Post-Burn
"That's pretty thorough," Jeannine mused. Her and Inala were inspecting the damage to the science labs, the bulkheads and deck plating burned black with the occasional green striation that Inala had confirmed, twice, to not be residual goo.
"Equipment's all toast," Inala confirmed. "Bulkheads'll need to be replaced, too, along with the deck plating, some of the ODN relays, a couple isolinear banks. Shouldn't be too bad. We'll have to put into a starbase, but it should all be replaceable."
"That's only half the work, though," replied Tocato. Inala gave her a quizzical glance.
"It's not all standard connection," she continued. "The adjacent sections are all filled with bypasses and switchbacks - we're gonna have to manually check each ODN connection and reprogram the isolinear banks."
"Christ," huffed Inala, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Not it," Jeannine murmured, lightly elbowing her friend.
"It was my idea, so it should probably be me," Inala lamented. "At least I got to burn all the nerd crap."
Jeannine snickered, and the pair moved back out into a non-blackened corridor.
"I can round up some extra hands to help," she offered.
"I'll take it."
Inala smiled appreciatively at Jeannine, and a brief silence passed before she finally asked.
"How is he?"
Jeannine lightly chewed her lip as they stepped into a turbolift.
"Still in critical," she answered. "Engineering."
"How bad was the damage?" asked Inala, somewhat awkwardly trying to steer the conversation to more familiar territory.
"Not too bad. We're fabricating a new console, and we've got the deck plating patched and the connectors capped, so it should be a quick install."
Inala nodded gently, and another silence filled the air as the lift came to a stop. Neither seemed in a hurry to step out. Jeannine took a moment to scan Inala's visage, the Orion's poker face nonexistent. It was one of the things Jeannine liked about her.
"He'll be alright," she offered. "You'll have plenty more chances to awkwardly avoid conversation with him."
Inala couldn't help a chuckle.
"Can't wait."
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Post by Einar on Dec 3, 2018 7:22:37 GMT
great log, I love those two
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Post by aoibheni on Dec 3, 2018 9:57:23 GMT
That was great, CJ! I can almost smell the melted bulkheads.
What a great piece of writing to enjoy with my morning coffee.
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