Medical Officer Gabe Cunningham stood out on the bridge in his usual spot to the right of the captain's chair, gazing on the currently-still expanse. He felt the whir of the engines beneath his feet and the sound of the beeping monitors, all showing the stats to perfect accuracy. How soon it would be before some idiotic ensign managed to get injured, he didn't know. Probably sooner than he'd think, knowing the recklessness of people on this ship. Hopefully Stiles would handle it – he was the CMO after all, and didn't have to delegate everything to less experienced crewmen. Gabe's expression contorted into that of a half-smile, just as the Captain, Hoffman, walked in with the air of one that knows he has power, and sat in the famous throne of the Captain's swivel chair.
"Ladies and gentleman," he began, but Gabe's thoughts were elsewhere and he paid no heed to the speech.
He'd better go check on Torres – probably still asleep, but she'd better be damn grateful to him for sneaking her onto the ship when she was supposed to be on academic suspension. As long as that emotionless science officer didn't see her, then that was okay and he'd hopefully get away with it. Best keep her away from Tachibana too – she was supposedly quite close to the frigid kid.
CR-S01 sat at the science station, working diligently away and informing the Captain that the reports were ready for launch. He wondered what trouble the Vulcan people were in – apparently he had some Vulcan ancestry, but it was quite far back – people of such cleverness didn't often get into trouble that warranted Starfleet intervention. People did consider him slightly standoffish sometimes though, and he thought that maybe his Vulcan relatives may have had something to do with it. When he thought of his sister, Rosalia, on the planet doing some environmental research, he hoped she was all right. His parents were long gone, killed in an accident, and so was his adopted father, so she as his adopted sister was all that he had left. There was no way she had any Vulcan ancestry – his childhood memories were dominated by the image of her laughing in a field of Asclepias. He'd identified the flowers for her, and then followed a string of days in the sun with her getting him to name every flower in the large field that was their garden. He shook his head, of course she'd be all right, now wasn't the time to worry about her. The best thing he could do was focus, and concentrate on his job.
Communications Officer Tomoe Tachibana was also dutifully listening to the wavelengths when out of nowhere came Torres, on supposed suspension, and closely followed by Cunningham, who was wielding a hypo, and yelling at Torres about heart rate and muttering an underlay of constant curses.
"Tachibana!" Torres, seemingly in the last stages of lunacy, grabbed her hands.
"Torres, what are you doing here?" she snapped, as Cunningham scanned the stowaway as she noticed that the delinquent's hands were swollen like balloons. "Oh my goodness, what happened to your hands?" That could have been the explanation for her acquaintance's strange behaviour, but she couldn't reason further because Torres was apparently trying to tell her something.
"Look, listen for Womulan."
"What…?" her words were indecipherable and Tomoe had no idea what Torres was on about.
"Womulan," Torres repeated, and realised her speech foibles. "What's happening?" she demanded of Cunningham.
"You got numb tongue?" he asked quickly.
"Numb tongue?" Torres repeated incredulously.
"I can fix that," Cunningham said hastily, digging in his medical kit.
"Look, Womulan." She tried, and Tomoe finally got it.
"Romulan!"
"Yes!"
"YES! – Ow!" Cunningham had apparently found the correct medication and had stuck Torres in the neck with it. She ran off down the corridor, and Tachibana with a heavy heart followed, ready to see what further trouble the ever-careless Torres would cause next.